Witch Slap
by tatapb
Summary: Twenty-one year old Rose Weasley is a wannabe Healer at St. Mungo's, Albus Potter is working as a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts and Scorpius Malfoy wants to be a Beater for Puddlemere. They're doing their best and failing miserably. (Post-Hogwarts & Slow Burn)
1. Chapter 1

_Edit: So I added this so that a few things would be clear:_

 _#1 - I think you already know this but I do not own the Harry Potter world of any of the characters involved, J.K Rowling does. (I'm not sure how legally this legally discards responsibility for copyright infringement, but everyone here does it so who am I to pretend I'm special?)_

 _#2 - I'm writing this for fun. I haven't written in years and recently I read a few fanfictions by_ _GraeLiars_ _(go check her out if you haven't yet) and it inspired me to write something myself. I don't have an update schedule per say, but I will undoubtedly post a new chapter at least once a week. Maybe even two or three if I'm feeling inspired and happy with the nonsense that comes out._

 _#3 - I enjoy and appreciate your reviews. Please leave one, as ego boosts are always a good thing and get me writing faster. I don't necessarily need them to write, but I do enjoy the back pat. Shout out to trinityblue76 and Connected-by-a-Semicolon_ _for being the first to review. I really appreciate it._

* * *

 **October 17th, 2027**

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Rose glared at the clock on the wall, ticking and tocking her precious time away. Midnight had just struck, marking the sixteen hours left until her Microbiology midterm.

That meant she was still missing a plethora of infections, each one more convoluted than the previous. She still hadn't reviewed all Fungal Infections and the ones caused by Protozoa, not to mention Bacterial Skin and Wound Infections. She could probably get away without cramming the Foodborne Diseases too hard - Choi hadn't been that keen on them in class, odds were he'd be equally dismissive in the exam.

Still, between the Fungal, Protozoa, Bacterial Skin and the stupid, stupid Blood-borne Bacterial diseases she had her hands full.

As Penny Nicholson might say, she was rightly fucked and not in the fun way.

The only thing that could conceivably save her from an Exceeds Expectations (or, Merlin forbid, an Acceptable) was a miracle.

The universe could probably cook up one for her. In fact, the universe probably should. She was the byproduct of two thirds of the Golden Trio, that had to count for something. And it wasn't like she was using this miracle for something useless or superficial, no.

Unlike her dragon loving sibling, she had noble goals.

The healing of the masses.

The curing of the sick.

An Outstanding in Microbiology.

Rose stared blankly at the hands of the clock.

Nothing happened, of course. There was no miracle, no divine intervention to be had. The only thing that happened was that she had wasted five minutes of her precious, ever trickling time.

She was fucked, plain and simple. Royally and utterly screwed.

She told herself to breathe, in and out. In and out.

She could do this. She'd pulled it off before, with less time on her hands. Then again, she'd done it for Anatomy and Physiology, which was Flemming's department. And Flemming was far nicer than Choi, who was an absolute beast.

Maybe she should review Foodborne Diseases after all.

She heard the door to the study room creak open, but didn't look up.

"How's my favourite cousin in the whole world doing?"

Rose still didn't look up. Her shaking hands were still frantically shuffling through the endless stack of papers, desperately trying to find her notes on Foodborne Diseases.

"I brought you coffee."

She didn't need to look up to know it was Albus. She didn't need to look up to know he was smiling obnoxiously at her. She didn't even need to look up to know he wanted something from her.

It was the worst time possible for this.

"What do you want?"

"Can't I just check on my best friend?"

She could see a paper cup being waved on the very edge of her peripheral vision. From behind a precarious pile of books and notes, twenty-one year old Rose Weasley finally looked up and scowled at the intruder.

"Cut the crap, Al." She carefully took the cup of coffee from his hands and set it down on the floor, lest it disrupt the impossible physics that were holding her books aloft. "What. Do. You. Want?"

Less than sixteen hours left before her exam and this was what the universe had come up with? Family bonding?

Some other time this might have been nice, considering how she didn't see enough of Albus on a good week, much less when she was drowning.

Now however?

She wanted to scream. Creature of poor impulse control that she was, scream she did.

"WELL?"

"I'm-getting-a-flat-and-I'd-like-you-to-move-in-with-me."

He said it all in one go, as if it was only one word. One of Al's most extraordinary capabilities, which he shared with Lily, was the ability to say a million words in under ten seconds.

Rose crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back against her rather uncomfortable chair.

"No."

"Come on, just think about it before you dismiss it!"

"No."

"Just for one second!"

Rose sighed. She didn't have the time for this. More accurately, she didn't have the energy for this.

Nonetheless, as she looked at her cousin's earnest, hopeful face, she decided against just kicking him out of the room. She'd have to do it the hard way, the time consuming way.

"You want me to think about it?"

"Yeah," Al replied, his lips curling into a wide smile. "But really, really think about it. I personally think it's brilliant."

"Okay." She looked up at the ceiling, her eyes fixated on a single point and silently counted to ten, in what she hoped was an accurate mimicry of her in deep thought.

One…

Two...

She then lowered her eyes to meet Al's expectant face. "It's still a no."

"You're making good money, you're practically a Healer!" Al's grin had been wiped clean at this point, ever mounting frustration growing. "Don't you want a place of your own?"

"No, I don't." It was shocking really, how little she gave a fuck about her independence at this one moment in time. "And I'm a Healer-In-Training, not a Healer yet by any reasonable measure."

"But-"

"No." Rose glared at him, anger starting to bubble in her stomach. "It's a no, Al. Now bugger off, I need to study."

Her despair seemed to register on the boy's brain. He hesitated for a second, his gangly body swaying back and forth. Unfortunately, he seemed to be in no hurry to leave.

"Al, I swear-"

"We can't make rent on our own," he spluttered with a sort of dogged determination on his face. "Scorp-"

"Wait, 'we can't'? 'Our own'? Is that plural I hear?"

He at least had the decency to look guilty.

One thing was to barge into her study room in the eve of an important exam. Another thing entirely was to barge into her study room in the eve of an important exam to ask her to move in with Scorpius Bloody Malfoy.

"Well, yes," Al fidgeted, a blood rushing to his cheeks. "Scorp and I-"

"Are you insane?" From the looks of it, he might be. There was an entire ward in St. Mungo's dedicated to cases like this and from the looks of it Al was a prime candidate, the Head of Janus Thickey would be thrilled to find such a perfect example of absolute and utter delusional madness. "You actually expect me to move in with Scorpius Malfoy?"

"Yes, but you'd be moving with me. Ignore Scorpius, you'd hardly even notice he's there."

That was doubtful. Scorpius Malfoy was and had always been an obnoxious wanker. Age had done little to improve on his condescending manner and unfortunately for poor, dear Al, her and him were a little like oil and water.

Also there was the fact that they couldn't stand each other, no matter how much they tried for Al's sake. Even on their best behaviour there were curses and swears and infantile name-calling.

Whenever she ran into him, it was like they were eleven years old all over again.

"Have you even mentioned this to him?"

"Yeah, of course. He's all for it."

Scorpius Malfoy might be a lot of things, but he wasn't a lunatic. Which meant Albus must have pestered him to the point of lunacy, which in turn meant he intended to brainwash her as well.

"No."

"Just hear me out!" Al slammed his hands on her work table, causing an earthquake of disastrous proportions. "Goddamnit, I swear sometimes-"

Books shuddered and collapsed to the ground, followed by a steady stream of her notes and papers. Rose leaned against her chair, a hand covering her mouth.

Shit.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Al removed a wand from his pocket and gave it a few flickers. "Look, I know this is a bummer." One by one, the papers, the notes, the books floated back up, aligning themselves far more perfectly. "I know you need to study but I wouldn't bother you if I didn't think this would be good for you."

"Al, I have an exam of massive proportions tomorrow. I'm trying to wrap my head around a million diseases of all shapes and sizes and they're not penetrating my thick skull. Can't this wait?"

"I haven't seen you in a bloody month, so no, it can't wait."

Her blue eyes met his and she chewed on her lower lip.

"You have five minutes to convince me," she uttered slowly, as if he were a little dimwitted. "After that I'm kicking you out."

"Okay, so we found-"

"Ask Lil!" she groaned, her entire core shaking at the word 'we'. "Fuck, ask James!"

"That wasn't five minutes!"

"No, it wasn't! But you have other people, for goodness' sake!" Her tone of voice rose a few octaves higher. "You can't ask _me_ to... to..."

If Albus had wanted her to move in with just him, she would have been glad to. She'd have been nothing short of ecstatic, though, honestly, she wished he'd picked a better moment to ask her than the eve of an exam.

However with Scorpius Malfoy in the mix there was just no bloody way in hell it was going to happen.

Ever.

The very thought of sharing a living space with the git made her anxiety skyrocket.

"You know as well as I do that Lil has the attention span of a goldfish and can't hold onto a job to save her life," Albus scoffed, as if the very idea of moving in with Lily was absurd. "And James is planning on moving in with Kayla and having a million babies so I can't well ask him now, can I?

But asking her to move in with Malfoy was any less ludicrous?

What was he on?!

"I can't Al," Rose protested, a hint of earnestness breaking her cool. She didn't want to hurt him over something like this. Then his face brightened up with what seemed like hope and she crushed all good intentions, growling: "I won't."

"You're my best friend!"

"Yes, Al, I am. And the primary reason why I remain your best friend is I don't live with you." Rose rolled her eyes and flickered her wand, floating a chair over to him. "And you usually leave me the fuck alone when I'm studying!"

"Look, it's a great place," Al reasoned, taking the chair with a grin and straddling it. Making himself comfortable, the wanker. "It's two steps away from St. Mungo's, your place of employment. High ceilings, fireplace, large windows, the whole enchilada."

Trust Al to compare a flat to food when she was certain she hadn't eaten for more than eighteen hours. The mere thought of it made her sick.

"It sounds great," she started, willing her stomach to settle, "but-"

"Look, it has enough rooms you can set an office."

"I have a study at home." She did, but she didn't use it. She just hoped he didn't know that. "And if this conversation is any indication of the hell our future lives will be together, then I want no part in it. Now bugger off, I honestly can't remember anything I read since you walked in."

"But the office isn't yours, Rosie. And don't pretend you can study at your parents' place. That's why I always need to corner you in a library or a study room, because you're physically incapable of absorbing knowledge at home."

And he knew. Of course he knew.

"Al…"

She could feel herself getting annoyed. From the feel of it, her cheeks were turning a lovely shade of puce.

"Oh, could you just _listen_ before you shit all over my plans, you jerk?"

Now Al was starting to become annoyed. He might not have gotten her dad's angry tomato flush, but Aunt Ginny's genes were starting to flare a little. They both eyed each other levelly, each silently gauging the level of irritation the other was at. From the looks of it, Al was about to bust a fuse if she didn't let him have it out.

He was the sort to hold a grudge and from the looks of it, if she didn't let him air his grievances, he'd run away and hide at Yardley's for at least a month.

Rose sighed. "Will you leave me the fuck alone if I don't?"

"No, I will not leave you alone," he replied, with the self-satisfied look of one who knew they'd won the battle. "I will continue pestering you until you _listen_."

 _Sigh_.

"Will you leave me the fuck alone if I _do_?"

"Eventually, yes." Al gazed at her earnestly. "I'll make it quick."

Rose sighed for the third time. She brushed a hand through her already disheveled hair (her 'study hair' as her brother called it) and rubbed her temples.

"Fine. Pitch."

She could feel him getting excited again, boyish exuberance flowing with every word. She was determined that, no matter how he'd won this particular battle he would _not_ win the war. After all, Scorpius Malfoy? What did he suppose was going to happen, the three of them would just walk into the sunset, one smiling happy family?

She doubted he even _knew_ how to smile. He knew how to smirk and glower and a series of other things that could passed off as smiles, but never an actual _grin_.

"Now, here's the thing. Malfoy has his allowance and his laughable income from his reserve position at Puddlemere."

Rose sniggered. Yeah, he did, the spoiled brat.

"I have a stable salary from my internship at Gringotts. The house is amazing, it's one of Scorp's dead relatives. Pureblood trash, but amazing windows and high ceilings. The owner is his third degree once removed or whatever cousin and he's renting it to us far below market value. If we—"

His tirade was interrupted by the door creaking open again. From behind it emerged the spoiled brat in all his blond glory. "Convince her yet?" He languidly leaned against the door frame, not even bothering to say 'hi'.

Rose glared at him.

If only looks could kill. Or maim, she would settle for maiming.

"Not yet, I was getting there." Al protested, getting up to his feet and smacking his best friend - his _other_ best friend - on the chest. "I was mid-pitch. You ruined it."

"Alright, good. Don't mind me kids," he said, offering one of his smirks. Not a smile, mind you. _Smirk_. "Just pretend I'm not here."

"Oh for the love of—" Rose groaned, burying her face in her hands. This was going to take twice as much time now with Malfoy's inevitable running commentary. "Why the fuck is he here?!"

"Because I have a deep and personal interest in this conversation, you disheveled harpy."

"Shut up Scorp." Albus stood between them as he had a million times before. He had probably noticed her hand instinctively reaching out for her wand just as she'd noticed Malfoy's hand reaching into his own pocket. "Drop your wand Rose, we're adults."

Albus glared at Scorpius. The prat glared right back at him.

Rose could practically read the silent conversation between them. The gist of it was _'don't poke the bear, we need the bear to want to move in with us'_ interjected with a few protests of ' _but I want to poke the bear_ '.

In the end, Albus was apparently successful, because Malfoy leaned back against the wall again, shut his trap, smirked and pretended to lock his mouth and throw away the key.

She needed to ask Albus to teach her how to do that. A quiet Malfoy was a pretty Malfoy, that is, if one was into entitled, pasty blonde wankers.

Albus cleared his throat. "Like I was saying… if you pitch in with your almost Healer salary, that house could be ours. You could have a room of your own and another room that we would turn into a study into which we solemnly swear we would never, ever, _ever_ step foot into."

"Unless you die from all that studying, in which case we'd need to pry your cold, lifeless body from it." Scorpius added helpfully.

Albus threw him a dirty look and ignored him. "You could have all your books available, close by, and not have to lug them around whenever you need to study. It would do wonders for your back Rosie."

"The man has a point. Your posture is kind of shit, Rose."

"Oh, fuck off Malfoy."

"Yes, fuck off," Albus hissed at Malfoy between gritted teeth, before continuing his tirade. "On top of that, we could make you coffee in the morning. Or not if you don't want us to."

"But..." It was tempting. It really was. "Al... come on, you can't be serious."

She looked around at the dinky, poorly lit room whose only benefit was not being inside her house.

She _hated_ leaving the house to study.

She _hated_ having to go back home after an all-nighter.

She especially _hated_ all the wasted commute time.

"Pipe down, Weasley." Scorpius looked intently at her, almost as if he were aware of her train of thought. "Let Al finish."

Unfortunately, his voice was a cold reminder of the _one_ reason why the whole concept was simply absurd. A pipe dream.

"We would be stellar housemates." Al said, seemingly encouraged the unexpected support. "You wouldn't have to put up with your dad barging into your room to see how you are doing or your mother worrying about how you haven't eaten in days when you're on one of your crazy study binges or your brother messing up your study when searching for things that aren't even there. We would leave you all to your _lonesome_."

"Yup," interjected the prat, apparently all up for this... 'leaving her alone'. "We couldn't care less if you starve yourself. We'll just remove you from the premises when you start to smell."

"That all sounds lovely but—"

"Roseeee, please? Pretty please?" At this point Albus had resorted to pleading. He looked miserable. "If you don't do it because of you do it for me. I need this. I need independence."

'Independence' in Al's particular case meant a place to hide out from his parents when he was having one of his adolescent fits. Up until now that had translated into him holing himself up at Yardley's place whenever something happened to peeve him, which in Al's case happened frequently and for the most varied reasons. It was childish and he really _should_ grow out of it at some point, but it was who he was. She couldn't expect him to change overnight.

From his corner of the room, Scorpius guffawed. "Yeah, do it for the man child Weasley, before he cries."

The problem with this was that if Al moved in with Scorp and she didn't, she'd never be able to visit. She knew herself and there was no way she'd Floo into a house where she _might_ encounter... urgh. _Him_

"I've been working so hard and all I wanted was—" Albus ignored him and continued appealing to her sentiments, which was rather wise of him considering this entire endeavour didn't have a leg to stand on other than her affection for him. "Rose, I mean, I know he's a git but-"

Rose had already made her decision. She was going to regret this, wasn't she?

"Fine."

" _What_?!" Both Albus and Scorpius sputtered it out at the same time, like the well oiled idiot machine they were.

"I said fine," Rose replied quietly, closing her eyes. Her brain was like a freight train at this point, working feverishly on the chaos that would ensue. She would need to move. Her mum would be proud, her dad would be worried, Hugo… well, Hugo probably would think it was _neat_. "Fucking fine."

She was going to regret this wasn't she?

"I'll move in with you. Now leave me the hell alone before I change my mind."

"Yes, oh Merlin, yes, we'll leave!" Contented puppy that he was, happy that he had gotten what he wanted, Albus made his way to the door. "Come on Scorp."

Just before he went reached it however, Scorpius stopped him, one of his arms barring the door. "How do I know you're not just trying to get rid of us?" he asked, gray eyes narrowing at her.

Now he was just riling her up. Which was rather immature and frankly unwise considering Al had just spent the better part of an hour convincing her to overcome the fact that she hated his guts and wanted him to burn in hell.

"Malfoy, get out," she spat, glaring back at him. "I said I would, I can change my mind."

"Ah, see? That's precisely what I was afraid of, considering just how completely unreliable you are." He smirked, taunting her without any presumption of innocence. "Can I get your consent in writing before we go?

She _knew_ he was doing it on purpose. Irregardless, she could feel the anger boiling in her as it always did, whenever he actually talked to her. Ten years of poorly contained anger had somehow boiled down to this: coexisting under the same roof.

It made her sick to her stomach.

"Malfoy, I swear to god if you're not out that door in three seconds…" She picked up her wand and pointed it directly at him, ignoring the fact that Al was standing between them. "Three-"

She was certain she could hit that blonde hair from a mile away, even if Al were _hugging_ him. After all, she'd had _years_ of practice.

"You may develop a convenient case of amnesia—" It was like he _wanted_ her to hex him. "Or just plain change your mind, like you just _threatened_."

"One… _Petrificus Totalus_." She pointed her wand at the sniggering asshole. There was a cruel sort of pleasure tugging at her as she felt the spell connect and he dropped like a fly. She got up from her chair and peered thoughtfully at her handiwork.

"You didn't actually need to hex him, you know?" Al was looking down at Malfoy's glazed face with an amused look. "You'll have plenty of time when we're-"

" _Don't..._ say it," she interrupted. "I don't think I'll be able to go through with it if I _think_ about it, which is why I'm going to pretend this conversation didn't happen until it's actually time to start moving."

"Fair enough. Can I de-hex him here or should I-" Al gestured inquiringly between the blonde tosser and the door, looking rather unfazed by the whole business.

After so many years, he had some experience with levitating Malfoy far the hell away from her.

"Just... do it far from here, Al, or I'm bound to do it again the second he opens that stupid trap of his." Rose picked up the now cold cup of coffee Al had brought her and her nose crinkled as she downed it. She coughed a little, a shiver running up her spine as what tasted like cold, sewer mulch went down her throat. Still, coffee was coffee and she still had a few hours ahead of her. "We'll talk about this when I don't have a theoretical exam from hell in sixteen hours."

Al's wand flickered and Malfoy's limp body was levitated toward the door. When he was about to leave, just stepping out the door, he stopped.

"You know I'm really glad you're doing this, right?" Al's smile was warm and somehow worth every single second she'd wasted. "I've missed you."

"I know." Rose bit her lip and smiled back at the gangly brunette boy. He was about to turn and leave when she cried out: "Al? Make sure he hydrates when he wakes up."

There was a smile on her face as the door closed.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.


	2. Chapter 2

_I meant to post this yesterday but I needed my editor's (aka my sister's) opinion and she was unavailable._

 _#1 - I think you already know this but I do not own the Harry Potter world of any of the characters involved, J.K Rowling does. (I'm not sure how legally this legally discards responsibility for copyright infringement, but everyone here does it so who am I to pretend I'm special?)_

 _#2 - Again, I enjoy and appreciate your reviews. Please leave one, as ego boosts are always a good thing. I don't necessarily need them to write, but I do enjoy the back pat. Makes me go about my day all warm and fuzzy._

* * *

 **October 27th, 2027**

Rose Weasley should have ditched Med School and taken a degree in Divination.

Her prediction had hit it out of the ball park.

The shitstorm that had hit the Granger-Weasley household 'pon her announcement was nothing short of legendary.

"You're moving in with _who_?!" her dad had sputtered, nearly choking on the bite of loaf he had been chewing. "Over my dead body will you be moving with that… that… _spawn_ of Satan!"

"Rosie, that is great, _don't_ listen to your father," interjected her mother, throwing her husband a look that could only be described as savage. "Do you need anything? You can take anything that's on storage, plus everything on your—"

"Cool," professed the ever-chill Hugo, holding out his fist for her to bump. "Way to go sis."

"—room. Ron, remember to breathe. You're throwing a hissy fit." At this point her husband seemed close to having a seizure. Hermione gave her daughter's hand a supportive squeeze. "It'll be an amazing experience for you."

"How is this okay with you?!" Ron's face was about the same color as his hair. " _I_ hate them. _You_ hate them. _We_ hate them."

"Grow up Ron, it's been over twenty years," Hermione chided, raising an eyebrow at her husband. "We see the Malfoys at functions all the time and they are perfectly diplomatic. Plus, you like Scorpius. You told us so yourself the last time Albus brought him around."

If was Ron's turn to glare at his wife. "That _never_ happened! I-I _never_ would!" The slight stutter however, betrayed to everyone the fact that he both remembered and now _really_ regretted saying it. Ron and Scorpius had bonded over Quidditch opinions and a friendly match of Wizarding Chess (from which Scorpius had emerged completely and utterly defeated). "Oh, fine, I did say that! But no matter how gracious a loser he is, he's still genetically wired to be an asswipe. It just hasn't manifested yet."

"In spite of being an, er, 'asswipe', I bet Draco is taking the news with far more grace than you are."

That had shut him up… for about ten minutes.

Her mother had been a sport through all of this. She had calmly and rationally reminded Ron that Albus had befriended Scorpius almost ten years ago. That their friendship was tested and true. That they had seen Scorpius grow from a good boy to a decent man. That both kids had spent holidays in each other's houses. That this was _not_ new information and that they were and had been on civil terms with the Malfoys for quite some time now.

When that didn't work, Hermione had finally (though less calmly and rationally) informed him that if he didn't shut the hell up and started being supportive of his daughter's decisions, she could always call his mother to ask for _her_ opinion on the matter.

 _Ah_ , the threat of Grandma Molly. It was a low yet effective blow.

Days later, Rose could still hear faint echoes of her father passive-aggressively stomping around the house, occasionally bellowing a _"You are breaking my heart"_ or _"Betraying everything this family stands for!"_. The protest was almost instantly followed by her mother shouting back something on the lines of _"Oh, can it Ron! That kind of idiotic bigotry was why we had to fight a War!"_ from the other side of the house.

Sitting on her bed for what felt like the very last time, Rose had given the room one final, hard look. It was now barren, devoid of anything that indicated she had ever lived there. She had feared it, y'know, looking around and realizing she had made a mistake. She had feared how she would _feel_ , feared that she would end up bawling her eyes out like some pre-pubescent twit.

She was kind of proud to realize how little that square footage meant to her.

It was just a room.

It was only when she heard another round of her parents yowls downstairs, the merry banter between them (that she suspected was some sort of weird and frankly disgusting foreplay) and the resulting snigger from Hugo next door, that it truly hit her.

 _This_ was home. Not her room. Not even her stuff.

She realized that tears were rolling down her cheek. Well, at least she wasn't _bawling_. She wiped them clean with a rueful smile: she _was_ going to miss them.

* * *

 **November 1st, 2027**

Whether he was for it or (more accurately) strongly against it, her dad had been there with bells on to wave her goodbye before she officially flooed into her new home for the first time. They had agreed that Rose would go alone (despite Ron's protests, Hermione had insisted that them being there would disrupt more than actually help) and get settled with Scorpius and Albus.

She was in a good mood. Her notes and books had been impeccably packed. Her mother had coordinated the wardrobe move and her father had (reluctantly) helped take a few things from storage, namely that one grandfather clock that she had always admired.

All was good with the world.

The movers had already dispatched all her stuff and it was waiting for her when she popped out of the fireplace.

 _Literally_ waiting for her.

 _Lying_ there in wait.

In a _pile_.

In the shape of a fucking _wall_.

Someone had piled up about fifty boxes in front of the fireplace from floor to ceiling, creating a barrier between the corner and the rest of the living room. She was certain that some of the boxes weren't even hers. Did they even have that many boxes between them?!

It must have taken them _hours_.

Rose could hear quiet sniggering from the other side of the wall, accompanied by a few breathless ' _schhhhs, she'll hear us!_ '.

"Al…? Malfoy?" The sniggering turned into full blown laughter. "Merlin, you guys are idiots." Rose brushed a hand through her hair and groaned, tilting her head back to look at their... erm... creation. " _Really_?!"

Oh, _Merlin_. "Ha. Ha. _Hilarious_ ," she sneered drily. "When you get it all out of you systems you'd better start tearing this stupid thing down."

This only elicited further guffaws from across the trenches. Rose rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall (not the one made of boxes), slumping down into a sitting position. This was going to take a while.

Those two nitwits were still laughing.

She removed a folder from her bag and started sorting through the notes. The lighting wasn't perfect but eh, at least the morons were busy on the _other_ side and therefore physically incapable of bugging her.

It _did_ take them a while to stop cackling like maniacs. About three pages worth of notes.

"My, my, _my_ Rose, we didn't hear you from behind that…" Albus' tirade was interrupted by a snort and frenzied laughter from the two followed. He managed to choke out the word _'fence'_ between what could only be described as _giggling_.

It took them a while before they finally calmed themselves enough to breathe.

"Oh _dear_ , oh _my_ , old chap! Where _did_ that come from?" This was Scorpius, obviously, using his worst old English impression. "I'm certain it wasn't here when we came 'round earlier."

"Quite right, dear boy! It must have materialized whilst we were having our luncheon," Albus retorted in an equally terrible accent (he guffawed the word ' _luncheon_ ', unable to keep it together). "Must be one of those foreign materializing blockades. You know the French and their utterly silly contraptions."

Their hysterical laughter was met with chilling silence.

"Rose?" That was clearly Albus. "Rose?" There was a tentative pause. "Do you suppose she died of laughter, old fellow?"

Nope. She wasn't going to _deign_ answering that.

"Don't get my hopes up, Potter." _That_ was obviously Malfoy, who by now had dropped the accent. "Though she _is_ awfully quiet back there."

"Ro-sieee," Albus called out in a sing song voice. He paused and snorted, grinning at Scorpius. "Well we _are_ hilarious. It could happen."

"Wishful thinking. Maybe she left," Scorpius retorted. She could hear steps echoing on their stone floor approaching the wall. Then there was quiet for a few seconds. "Nope, not dead. Nor left. I can hear her breathing. She's a _mouth breather_."

"What the-," Rose hissed, dropping her notes to her lap and directing an angry look at the wall. "Am _not_!"

"See? Told'ja." Scorpius sounded awfully pleased with himself. "And yes. You are. A loud one at that."

"Rosie?," Albus called out tentatively. He at least had the sense to pretend to concerned. "Are you okay back there?"

Rose leaned back and let her head rest against the wall for a second closing her eyes. "Yup. Catching up on some reading. Go back to doing… whatever it was you two idiots were doing."

On the other side of the wall, the two idiots joined in a strategic but not so silent huddle.

"This sounds like the calm before the storm," Albus whispered ominously. "I've seen it before."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Oh my. Did Scorpius Malfoy sound… _uneasy_? "Should we unleash the manticore?" Nope, he did _not_ sound uneasy. Just a different shade of obnoxious. "Do you propose we set the Cerberus free? You _do_ know she'll eat us alive and spit out the bones."

Rose could hardly resist the bait. "I _can_ hear you, you know?," she huffed indignantly, her cheeks coloring slightly.

Albus was right. Rose could feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface. Mostly triggered by Malfoy. She pushed it down.

Nope. She was fine. She was studying. That was what she wanted all along, right? A place to study.

Nope. Not angry.

However she needed to remember to make her revenge short and painful.

They were just lucky she didn't have any tests in an imminent future.

"Well if _that_ got you talking you can't be that angry," retorted Malfoy. "I'm disappointed in you, Weasley. I was expecting some fireworks. Fizz. Crackle. _Pop_!"

It was incredible how she could _see_ the smirk in his voice even though he was behind five feet of cardboard box. The anger boiled a little a little stronger. She could feel the blood rising to her cheeks.

" _Are_ you really angry, Rosie?," coaxed Albus, approaching the boxes and knocking on one of them cautiously as one would on a door. The whole structure wobbled a little and he laid both his palms on it to stabilize it before giving a few cautious steps back. "Because if you aren't we could unleash… er… I mean, _release_ you from your imprisonment and we could inaugurate the new coffee machine Scorp got us."

"It'll put some hair on your chest, Weasley," Scorpius goaded her. "Well, some _more_ hair."

"Don't provoke her, you asshole," scolded Al. "Don't poke the bear!"

"Look at you getting in the spirit of it, Al!" Malfoy practically cheered. It was if he could hear her fuming. "At this rate the... hmm, what was the word you used? Oh right, _bear_! The _bear_ will hex you too!"

"Oh for the love of—" Rose's wand was on her hand before she even knew what she was going to do.

All they were aware of was a faint pop from behind the boxes, a subsequent sharp cracking sound behind them. They knew that pop.

That was Rose's Disapparating and Apparating pop combo. _Shit._

Before they could react, the pops were followed by two thuds caused by their own two bodies collapsing to the floor.

Once more Scorpius Malfoy found himself on a full body bind, laying on the floor, his nose mashed against the surface. He could hear her footsteps approaching angrily and would have smirked if his muscles had allowed him to.

"You guys are fucking jerks."

At least he wasn't the only one. Close by, Albus Potter had also fallen, though not on his face.

"To think I actually moved in with you two." She glared at them and shook her head. "I'm going to get my damned fucking coffee. _Then,_ I'm going to set up my study. _Then_ I'm going to study in my study. Only after that, _when_ and, far more importantly, _if_ I damned well feel like it, will I come back and grace you with a _Reparifor_."

There was a small silence. They obviously weren't able to answer.

"Asshats."

And she was gone.

They could hear her moving around. They could hear boxes being lowered, angrily at first. She had inherited her dad's passive-aggressive stomping and they could practically _feel_ her trampling all over the apartment.

It couldn't even have been five minutes before her steps had become lighter and Rose was back. She approached Scorpius, who was currently facing the floor (and feeling rather uncomfortable for that matter).

At this moment he was about 90% sure she was going to kick him.

"You _idiot_ ," she sputtered, crouching down close to him. She grabbed one of his arms and spun him around so he was facing upwards. "You are both _idiots_. This crap better not happen ever again."

She cast two quick _Reparifors_ , her face betraying only a hint of the anxiety she felt.

She really needed to stop hexing them whenever she got pissed. Odds were that was going to happen a lot from now on. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" she mumbled while getting back to her feet.

They had barely heard it, but they could have sworn Rose Weasley had just apologized.

Nervously, she left the room and her two housemates to their defrosting. By the time she returned with two glasses of water, they were almost completely thawed and had moved to a sitting position. They were also unusually quiet.

She wordlessly handed each of them a glass and sat down on the floor between them, incapable of looking them in the eye.

The three of them stood there in silence, Rose stubbornly avoiding looking at either of them.

In the end it was her that broke the quiet: "I'm fucking sorry, alright?" Goddamnit, why was she even apologizing for?! They were assholes. "It won't happen again."

There was silence again. None of them was saying a word.

"From now on I'll leave the wand at the door or whatever."

Silence.

Ten seconds passed.

Twenty.

Thirty.

The she heard a _snigger_.

She looked up at Malfoy and couldn't believe it: the prat was laughing. She was about to protest when a snort from her left indicated that Albus was also laughing. How long had they been…? What was…?!

"Calm your tatas, Weasley. We good," drawled Scorpius, clearly relishing the moment. He threw a glance at the grandfather clock on one of the corners or the room. "Potter, you owe me five galleons."

"Godsdamnit Rose, you couldn't have waited five more minutes, could you?" Albus groaned, fiddling into his pockets and reaching behind her back to plant a few gold coins on Scorpius' outstretched hand. "I trusted your self-control. I really, _truly_ believed you would last for more than half an hour."

She couldn't believe her ears. "You guys… _bet_ on how long it would take me to hex you?! You did all _that_ in order to measure my threshold of annoyance?"

The coins on Scorpius' hand jingled and he grinned, laying them on the floor. "Yup. I on the other hand bet you had absolutely no self-restraint. Zero, zilch, _nada_. Albus was foolish enough to trust your better judgment," he guffawed. "Guess who won?"

Rose's hands rose to her face and she breathed in slowly.

 _Idiots_. She was living with _morons_.

"Well it _was_ close," Albus added helpfully. "You almost made it. But just for the record, I think the idea of leaving our wands at the door is pretty stellar."

She breathed out.

"Yeah, cheer up Weasley. I second the wand thing," Scorpius chimed, prodding her leg with his toe and grinning madly. "That way _you_ can't cause us bodily harm yet _we'll_ still be able to hurt you with words. Seems like a fair trade."

"Oh, _sod off_ , Malfoy."

But she couldn't help but smile a very little smile from behind her hands.

From that point forth on the Malfoy-Potter-Weasley household (it was in alphabetical order: Scorpius had insisted, Albus had acquiesced and Rose really didn't care), their wands were always left in a bowl at the door.


	3. Chapter 3

_Another, slightly shorter chapter. I'm apparently on a roll :)_

 _#1 - I think you already know this but I do not own the Harry Potter world of any of the characters involved, J.K Rowling does. (I'm not sure how legally this legally discards responsibility for copyright infringement, but everyone here does it so who am I to pretend I'm special?)_

 _#2 - Again, I really, really enjoy and appreciate your reviews. Please leave one, as ego boosts are always a good thing. I don't necessarily need them to write, but I do enjoy the back pat. Makes me go about my day all warm and fuzzy._

* * *

Time passed. A week. Two weeks.

Slowly but surely, the trio settled into their new house, their new life, their new routines.

Amidst the bickering they were somehow meshing into a functional little family.

* * *

 **November 17th, 2027**

"Albus my boy, you need to try this," Scorpius chimed from the kitchen. From his seat on the couch Albus peered questioningly at Rose, who shrugged back from the table where she was reading.

Gingerly, he got up and opened the door to the kitchen.

He did a double take at the homey, snug atmosphere that had invaded their otherwise neglected kitchen. It was so staggering that he took a step back, retreating, safeguarding himself from this new new turn of events that he hadn't ever (not in a million years) been expecting. "What _is_ that?!" The smell of freshly baked goods wafted toward him, slapping him across the face with delicious wholesomeness.

It smelled of cinnamon and apples and, most importantly… _love_.

Scorpius was setting down a tray of what looked like malformed pastry fetuses on top of their kitchen island. He was wearing a 'Kiss The Cook' apron they had found on one of the boxes. Albus had seldom seen him looking this pleased with himself. "You said you were going to make a sandwich," he accused.

It was as if he'd accidentally stepped on an alternate reality where, apparently, Scorpius _baked_.

"I got distracted," dismissed Scorpius. "I made apple tarts instead."

Albus gaped, his mouth opening and closing several times before he could find the words that would articulate the complicated cocktail of mixed emotions he was feeling.

Confusion. Shock. The sincere wish to pick on his very best friend about it 'til kingdom come.

It was all so deliciously... _odd_.

"Merlin, _you're_ the tart," Albus finally quipped, shaking himself back to reality. "Are you ill? You're cooking!" He stared at the tarts, eyebrow raised. "Even worse, you're _baking_!"

"Yeah, your point being?" Scorpius deadpanned, mentally readying himself for the endless teasing that he suspected, nay, _knew_ he was about to endure.

From the living room came a loud, incredulous cry: "Malfoy's _baking_?!" Quick steps rushed toward the kitchen and a disheveled Rose Weasley peered into the room. She stared at the tarts then back at Scorpius. She took one single deep breath, savouring the moment before jumping in with both feet. "He's been replaced with a doppelganger," she proposed, exchanging a look full of mirth with Albus. "It's the only reasonable explanation."

"We need a way to test it." Albus took a step back and grabbed her arm, pulling her in mock retreat, shielding her from Scorpius, The Alleged Doppelganger.

"Quick, Malfoy, say something snide!" Rose gibed over Albus' shoulder.

"You guys are making a big deal out of something that is perfectly normal," huffed Scorpius, removing his oven mitts and sitting on one of the kitchen island's chairs.

"Damnit, it's not him. I'll distract him while you run!"

"I say we let the real one die and keep the baking doppelganger," chimed Rose, freeing herself from Albus' grip. Tentatively she approached the tray and hesitantly poked one the grotesque little tarts with her finger. "I think he may be malfunctioning though."

"They are absolutely perfect, don't be an ass," Malfoy cursed, defensively crossing his arms over his chest. "I just thought I'd try it."

Albus and Rose looked at him, then at each other than back at him. They were torn between being supportive or laughing their asses off. Malfoy looked so defiant, the poor dear. It would be cruel to taunt him for what could actually become a future hobby or a passion of his. They should nurture this, help it grow…

But then again...

Rose's eyebrows were twitching, her lips firmly pursed together as she tried to suppress her laughter. Albus was silently trying to hold in his chortles, convulsing ever so slightly.

"Oh, Merlin." Scorpius rolled his eyes. "Just let it out before you two explode."

Laughing their asses off it was.

 _Then_ they could nurture it.

"Malfoy, if you want to quit your _half-baked_ Quidditch career and focus on this instead, we will fully support you," Rose threw the first blow, her tone tentative.

"Weak, Weasley." Scorpius just rolled his eyes dismissively, clearly unfazed. "Do better."

Albus snortled and then chimed in: "Yeah, we got you, Scorp. It would just _bake_ my day if you just pursued what truly fulfills you!"

Rose raised an eyebrow approvingly at her cousin. "In the end it all _boils down_ to how much you suck at it," she added.

There was a small pause.

Albus said nothing.

Scorpius and Rose stared expectantly at him.

" _Well_?"

"Your parents would be _grilled_ to bits…?" He sounded apologetic, aware that this wasn't his best.

"Grilled doesn't work Albus, we're doing baking puns," chided Rose petulantly. Her sneer morphed into a grin. You could practically see the lightbulb on her brain going off. "Or should I say… _buns_."

"Yeah, because _boil down_ is super related to baking," Albus protested, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Well, you can't have your cake and eat it too," she retorted, picking up one of the pastries and peering at it suspiciously, then back at Scorpius. "Did you poison this?"

"That doesn't even make sense." Albus mimicked her and grabbed one of the tart abominations, thoughtfully taking a whiff off it.

It did smell amazing.

"You're an ass, Weasley," Scorpius retorted, his lips pursed into a smile. He was clearly doing his best not to laugh. "Of course I didn't. Are you two done now?"

They weren't. His question broke the silence and gave them a renewed burst of punny inspiration.

"I _loaf_ you Malfoy, you're such a party pooper." Rose grinned and tilted her head to the side, goading Albus to continue.

Albus didn't disappoint. " _Bakers_ gonna _bake_."

"Oof, nice one!" Rose narrowed her eyes approvingly. "You could have used 'scone-a' instead of 'gonna' but-"

"Did you really _knead_ to ruin it?"

" _Donut_ judge me."

Scorpius sniggered. "You guys are a riot. Try the damned thing, you idiots."

" _Muffin_ you can do to stop us."

"Oh shut up and try it, Al." Scorpius placed both his hands on his waist. "This is getting real old real fast. You guys are both… weir _doughs_."

He had actually bothered to pause for effect, the _nerd_.

That was when Al and Rose basically lost it.

"Fuck," Albus was clutching his stomach from all the laughter. "That one took the cake."

Rose was near tears at this point. She took a bite from the tart, almost choking on it because she was still laughing.

Then… she stopped. And then she chewed. And then she took another bite.

Because, surprisingly enough… it was… _okay_.

"Wow." She took another bite and was delighted to find that it was more than 'okay'. "These are so nice, Malfoy." She nodded approvingly, before pulling a chair and settling in front of the island. She took another pastry from the tray and placed it directly on the counter in front of her. "They _look_ like shit, but are amazing on the inside. Kinda like the opposite of you."

"Get a plate you savage," Scorpius chided, shaking his head with disapproval.

"She's right though. It's great." Albus was contentedly eating his way through his second tart. "For the record, you just called Scorp pretty, Rose."

"Well shit," Rose gazed at Scorpius thoughtfully for a second, then shrugged, taking another bite. "Well, it's true though. He _is_ as pretty as he is rotten on the inside."

"Why shucks, you flatter me, Weasley." Scorpius got up, got a plate from the cupboard and handed it to her, a grin etching his features. "Never knew you thought I was _that_ pretty."

"Thanks." She took the plate from him with a smile and placed yet another tart on top of it. "It's really sad. You are. Awful personality though."

There was silence for a while. A companionable silence interrupted only by the occasional happy sigh as the three of them ate their way through the tray.

Rose broke the silence, leaning back against her chair. "Man, great cake. You should do this more often."

"You know what?" Scorpius looked between the pair of them. "I think I will."

True to his word, he did.

Every once in a while, Rose or Albus would arrive home to find dinner made or the smell of fresh baked goods. Scorpius' attempts weren't always entirely successful but were always met with great enthusiasm and, more often than not, a lot of good-natured jokes.


	4. Chapter 4

_Well this is unusually long winded. I'm really sorry for the rambling!_

 _You know the drill. **Review** , **follow** , **favorite**. _

_**pb2plus** , ily._

 _ **Guest** who commented that Al and Scorpius were like your roommates from your college days, you are spot __on. 3_

 _ **trinityblue76** Rose is a fierce, independent woman who can indeed hold her own. I'm really glad you enjoy next gen and I'll be writing how the three of them really come into their own, growing together._ _  
_

 ** _magiQlover_** _I sympathize with your plight, college is hell. Rose thinks so too XD_

 ** _Connected-by-a-Semicolon_** _I promise everything will be fine. Rose and Scorp love Albus a little too much to allow themselves the luxury to hate each other. And while Scorpius hasn't showed up much yet, he's not all bad :)_

* * *

 **November 25th, 2027**

Sleep wasn't something that came naturally to Rose Weasley.

It was a commodity, a luxury. Whenever she had the time for it, it always seemed to slip right between her fingers, so close yet unreachable. Tossing and turning were the norm. She usually just stared at the ceiling until she thought she might go mad from it.

Sometimes, in the very dead of night, she wondered if she already was.

Insomnia, you fickle _bitch_.

Some nights she took advantage of her extra time, reading or studying until she was certain she would collapse… and yet she never did. Not instantly.

She often found herself staring at the hours flying by until the early morning light shone through her window, until she could hear the happy chirping of the birds waking up… signaling that she had missed her chance.

She knew that she had seen the hours pass, but not the minutes. She was medically aware that at least _some_ of that time must have been spent sleeping, seamlessly slipping in and out of consciousness. She cherished those unfelt minutes, knowing they were what kept her functional.

And so she tried. She went to bed at midnight and watched time slowly trudge by, lying in wait for the rest that seemed to never come.

During exams she was so wired that she survived on the bare minimum, unable to close her eyes without being haunted by what she _should_ be doing instead. She subsisted on will power, caffeine and anxiety. Exam season was when she slept best, exhausted to the point of collapse.

She loved it when people asked "have you tried a sleeping draught?".

Why, how insightful of them. How utterly brilliant in its simplicity. How had she never thought of that before?

No, of _course_ she hadn't. She hadn't self-medicated _at all_.

She _hadn't_ brewed every single potion in every single book available.

She _hadn't_ specially imported Eldritch Whorlwood from Ukraine and slathered it all over her forehead.

She _hadn't_ poached, boiled, fried, grilled and tried every single other form of cooking on Orticusp.

She _hadn't_ tried every diet fad, every meditation technique.

Nope. She hadn't tried at all.

It was _insulting_.

People who had the gift of sleep seldom knew how lucky they were. Rose envied them, craved their carelessness. They thought sleeping was _easy_.

The new setting disturbed her. The nerves from the move were still settling. She could feel the pit of anxiety on her stomach, the perfectly unreasonable nausea. She knew she had indeed been sleeping because she sometimes woke up in a panic, not knowing where she was.

She missed the familiar sounds of her old house, the traffic outside.

This house creaked _wrong_. It didn't moan the same way.

She knew that it was unfair, but she hated it.

They were all still settling in, still feeling up the house.

They still didn't know which floor boards were safe and which ones would make up a ruckus that would wake the whole neighborhood when stepped on. The stone floor on the living room made it a little easier to mask late arrivals, but if Albus or Scorpius were feeling careless and didn't take off their shoes, their steps echoed and carried.

Maybe it was all in her mind.

It _probably_ was all in her mind.

Still, it made sleep difficult. It kept her awake.

That was why Albus walked in on her. In the kitchen. At three a.m. Clutching a glass of warm milk for dear life, her cheek resting flat against the island counter.

"Can't sleep?"

She looked up to meet his gaze. He looked half asleep, slightly dazed, but he didn't _look_ surprised; he knew her better than that.

"Understatement of the year."

"Is it still the house?" He yawned, opening the fridge and grabbing himself a glass of milk. He arched an eyebrow at the wand next to her on the table but apparently decided not to complain. "Warm this up for me, will you?"

"Sorry." She smiled apologetically, pointing her wand at his glass. A few strands of heat erupted from it, stirring the cup. "You know I can't work a stove."

Albus was investigating the contents of their cupboard, until he finally removed from it a bag of chocolate biscuits. He triumphantly tossed it at the table..

"I know." He took the glass back from her hand and placed it next to hers. He then sat on the nearest chair and dunked a cookie into his milk. "Plus, it's three in the morning. I doubt you're lying there in wait trying to surprise hex us."

She snorted. Weirder things had happened.

"Yeah, I do this every night in the off-chance Malfoy will show up," she retorted, removing a cookie from the bag. Unlike him, she didn't soak it in her glass, she just gave it a bite and then washed it down with a sip.

 _Man_ , this was the life.

The anxious, depressed, sleep deprived life.

"You could claim self-defense."

"That's the dream."

They sat in silent companionship, each quietly sipping their glass of milk and munching on their biscuits. Their arms rested against each other and Rose felt comforted.

 _Comfortable_.

"Why are _you_ awake?"

It was a reasonable question. Unlike her, Albus was notoriously difficult to wake. She had once tried to set the stereo in his room at full volume and he hadn't even stirred. The house had shaken as if an earthquake had hit and yet he had blissfully snored on.

On one particular occasion back at the Potter household, part of the ceiling plaster had actually fallen on him. He hadn't even noticed until he woke up and noticed all the blood.

He had taken to creating vastly obnoxious spells to wake himself up every morning, rising in intensity and creativity as the years went by. She suspected that was how Albus Potter had found his gift for spell crafting and why he was the pride and joy of the Gringotts Curse Breaking Department. It wasn't that he was better at it than anyone else, no sir, he just had his brain attuned to it.

It gave him pleasure. It was not only his job, but a passion, a hobby.

He was also a bit of a jerk and he loved creating spells that would not only entrap potential perps but also make them suffer from sheer _embarrassment_. His latest stunt had been creating a spell that stripped felons buck naked and tattooed "I tried to steal from Gringotts but all I got was this lousy tattoo" on their asses.

"I had a nightmare."

"Oh."

Between kindred spirits, half a word was enough.

It was a well-kept secret that Albus had been plagued with dreams of Zara Spencer ever since she had broken up with him. Scorpius had only clued her in on it a few months ago else Rose might have never found out.

The nightmares weren't the worst of it, in her opinion. At least those were concealed and contained to the privacy of his own home. The problem were those daily moments when his laughter died and a solemn look appeared on his face. That was what concerned her most. The way his green eyes hardened and his jaw set whenever he saw any random girl with short curly blonde hair.

At first it had been denial. After a year they were down to anger. At this rate they would be at acceptance in, what, five years?

In her opinion, anger was an improvement. It meant he didn't mope around, just occasionally set fire to any old belongings of hers that he happened to find or just miscellaneous items that reminded him of her.

The potted Cave Star she had brought with her the first few weeks had met its demise by defenestration.

Rose waited patiently for him to stir the conversation again. This was one of those situations where Albus had to be the one to set the tone.

His green eyes were glazed and he was staring at the wall, a million miles away. After a few seconds, he finally shook himself awake. "How are _you_?" His usually easy grin was strained.

Deflect it was.

She grinned back, compassion still plain in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"With the move. Are you sick of us yet?"

"I hate you both." Her eyes softened. "But I love you more."

"Does that mean you're not already planning to move out?" He sniggered and gave her a friendly bump with his shoulder. "I must be out of my game."

"You're enough of a pest as is." She twirled her wand between her fingers, meaning clear. "Don't tempt me."

"This is why we have rules," Al snorted. "What about Scorpius?"

"What about him?"

"Do you hate him?" He rested his cheek on his hand, eyes earnest.

"Nah. He's surprisingly okay." Rose's eyebrows furrowed at her own response. When the hell had _that_ happened? "I think he won me over when he started cooking for us."

"I knew you'd love him once you got to know him better."

The asshat was grinning now.

"Whoa, hold your horses, Potter." She raised her hands in a gesture of defiance. "I _tolerate_ him at best. Mostly because I love you and you love him."

She'd be damned if she knew why.

"You two could do worse."

Their eyes met and Rose could have sworn he was serious for a second… until he smirked.

"Eww. Enough of this." She grimaced, elbowing him. "How's work treating _you_?"

" _Ouch_. The usual." His eyes brightened up for a second. "Today I opened up a vault that had been locked for two hundred years. Believe it or not there was someone inside it."

" _What_?!"

"Yup. Or at least what _remained_ of that someone."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

"Auror Department is working on an ID." He shifted on his seat, turning to face her. "The running theory is that someone purposefully locked them inside. A jilted lover, perhaps." His enthusiasm nearly made him knock down his glass.

"That's _amazing_!" Rose grabbed his glass and relocated it a few inches away, safe from Albus' reach.

"The less… erm… _romantic_ running theory," Albus continued, pausing for effect, "is that a perp was caught by the vault and it didn't let him out. Until _now_!"

"Oh, that's no good." Rose shook her head. "I like the first one better."

"Yeahhh, I do too. They always like to spoil the fun with reality." He rested his chin on his hand and narrowed his eyes at her. "How's St. Mungo's treating you?"

"Well, today I chatted with Mrs. Wallace about her cats for about ten minutes, then fed her some soup for five and then spent the remaining three hours and fourty-five minutes doing paperwork." She sniggered. "Yup, it was as glamourous as you're imagining."

"Aren't you supposed to be, I don't know, healing the sick or something?"

"Are you _crazy_?" She looked at him as if she genuinely thought he was. "They don't trust us around actual people. Hell, _I_ wouldn't trust us around actual people. Jesse Boot caught a whiff of blood the other day and threw out his lunch."

"Jesse Boot was always a pussy."

Rose snorted. It was true, but beside the point.

"Yeah, you try being around dying people all day, see what that does to your appetite."

"I found a 200 year old decaying corpse today, Rose. And I asked for _seconds_ at lunch."

"Weird flex but okay, son." She arched an eyebrow at him. "Either way, it's normal. Today wasn't my clinic day. And I don't hate paperwork, it relaxes me."

"Yeah, nothing like four hours of paperwork to brighten up your day," Al sneered.

Yeah, yeah, she was a nerd. Get over it.

"Three hours forty-five minutes."

"Same shit." He paused, lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "They're wasting your skills."

Indignation surged on her chest. She defensively crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Hey, paperwork saves lives!" She jumped in defense of the sanctity of paperwork. "The other day, I was sorting through the patient files for this doctor and discovered that the bloke's newest symptoms, when added to the ones he had previously complained about, were a solid case of the Sniffles."

"Oh no, not the _sniffles_!" Al mocked, clutching his heart.

"Well, when you say it like _that_ it sounds ridiculous. Except it was the _Sezarad_ sniffles."

"Ah, _yes_ , the Sis-flem-ha sniffles." He snorted dismissively. "I have literally no idea what that is."

"You uncultured swine. It's rare and deadly and really nasty if it isn't caught early." She grinned, stars in her sunken eyes. "I got praised. It was _amazing_."

Just thinking about it warmed her with fuzzy feelings of pure undiluted joy.

"You saved a life!" Al seemed genuinely impressed. "That's brilliant!"

"Sometimes it is. Others I just feel like a monumental failure."

"Why's that?"

"Well," she started reluctantly, a small smile growing. "Sometimes I drop Mrs. Wallace's soup all over her _and_ myself and then get kicked to the filing section."

"Well you're brainy but a complete klutz. Making you give people soup is a recipe for disaster."

"That's very reassuring Al." Her nose wrinkled ever so slightly. "Especially considering a few years from now I'll be cutting into people."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, it'll be hilarious. ' _Whoops, I dropped my scalpel!'_ Boom!, _Dead_."

"You'll be fine, Rose," he said, rolling his eyes. "Eat a goddamned biscuit and swallow all that anxiety before it spreads."

She did. Albus got up from his seat and opened the fridge door. His hand reached out to grab the milk carton… and then he stopped.

Without turning, Albus blurted. "I miss her."

For a split second, Rose's hands balled into fists and she found herself gritting her teeth. "I know you do, love." Her countenance relaxed, but her nails dug deep into her flesh. "She was a big part of your life."

"It's been almost a year and I still can't…"

Rose let her memory go back to happier days.

Zara and Albus had been an item for four years. He had worshipped the ground she stepped on. She showed up at every family meeting. Every Christmas, every Holiday, every birthday. And Albus had been on every single one of hers, seamlessly blending with her crowd.

The Spencers had effectively adopted him into their own bunch, cousins inviting him for Quidditch matches and drunk nights out, even when Zara wasn't included.

He hadn't just lost a girlfriend that day. He'd lost an entire family. He'd lost friends.

Albus softly broke the silence. "I bought a ring you know?"

He'd lost his entire _future_.

" _What_?!" Her nails drew blood. "Did you ask her?" She finally opened her hands, anger and shock finally flowing freely through her.

She hadn't known. She truly hadn't known.

He was still staring into the fridge.

"Didn't get a chance to."

She had dumped him before he could. Oh boy.

"I was preparing to, though."

When Albus said that he was 'preparing to' it probably meant he had been planning it for months. Arranging for her favorite Quidditch Team to skywrite the proposal. Trying to hire Martin and The Shockwave Toads to play while he got down on one knee. Figuring out how to make moving fireworks with their photos.

The boy had no goddamned chill whatsoever.

"That's… _awful_." It was horrendous. It was monstrous. But what scared her the most was that he hadn't told her. "Did Malfoy know?"

"He did." Albus turned to face her, milk carton in hand, face emotionless. He poured more milk into their two glasses.

Functioning on auto-pilot, Rose grabbed her wand and cast a warming spell on them. Her eyes were wide, mouth hanging slightly aghast. "Why…" She stopped herself mid-sentence and schooled her features. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried to."

 _Oh_. Oh _no_.

It had been during that particularly jarring semester when she had barely had the time to breathe.

She now realized that Albus had been really low on her priorities, perhaps even unforgivably low. "I could've made the time."

But she knew she was lying.

And she knew that he knew that she was lying.

"You wouldn't have. It's part of the reason I wanted you to move in with us so bad." Albus was still looking as apathetic as if they had been discussing the weather.

He had _needed_ her. And she hadn't been there.

"You had Malfoy and -"

Albus snorted disdainfully. "Whenever I try to complain to Scorpius about my problems, he feels like the best solution is to talk it through until it makes sense." His nose crinkled in disgust. "It's his particular brand of dealing with things, analyzing them until they're _logical_. I just wanted the wanker to shut the hell up about it."

"I'm really sorry. I _am_."

She was sorry. Yet her most pressing emotion right now was anger.

Anger at Zara. Anger at Malfoy for not telling her.

Mostly, she was angry at herself.

As if he could read her mind, Albus continued his little tirade. "I didn't think it was outrageous then and I certainly don't now," he mused, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. "Which is why I never said anything. I'm telling you _now_ , because I genuinely think you should know: just because you're in the shit it doesn't mean the world stops turning."

"I—" She looked like a wounded puppy, concern and pity and guilt all meshed into blue eyes.

"Oh, don't look at me in that tone," he clipped. "You're still my best friend. I just think that sometimes you have your head so far up your own ass that you can't see that other people _need_ you."

"Well, _fuck_."

Disappointment was far worse than anger or sadness.

"Yup. I know you have a perfectly legitimate excuse. But you will be missing out on important shit."

"I know, I know," she acquiesced, avoiding his gaze.

This had turned from Albus pouring his feelings to her to Albus scolding her. The first was as rare as a heck, the second not an uncommon occurrence.

"Don't give me that crap. When's the last time you talked to Hugo?"

She disliked it immensely when people gave her crap about her inability to keep in touch when things got difficult.

Especially when they were fundamentally _right_.

"Since we moved probably. But Hugo doesn't _need_ me."

"If you really believe that, you're move of an idiot than I took you for."

"I don't. It's just… easier."

His countenance softened. She could feel him pitying her.

It was _awful_.

"Just call the bloke. And call your goddamned parents while you're at it." Albus dunked four of his biscuits into his glass, pointedly staring at her. "Better yet, go visit. Kill three birds with your presence."

"I will." She was lying of course. She figured he knew it too.

There was a pause in which both stubbornly avoided meeting each other's eyes.

Milk was consumed, biscuits destroyed.

After a few minutes, like he had before, she chose to deflect.

"I can't believe I didn't know you were going to propose. I mean, I knew you were going to, I just didn't know you were… _going_ to."

Perhaps it was cruel and selfish of her. Perhaps part of it was just trying to distract him from _her_ issues.

However if she knew anything about Albus Potter, it was that this might be the only chance she was getting at getting him to talk about Zara fucking Spencer and the shitstorm that had struck eleven months ago.

He seemed defensive for a second and then his shoulders slumped defeatedly. As if he'd been carrying the weight on his shoulders for far too long and he just wanted to unload.

"Yeah, it was shit." He paused and his eyes glazed over at he stared into nothingness.

She could feel that his mind and heart were gone again. For a few seconds he was smiling as he had when Zara had still been around.

It broke Rose's heart.

"One of my friends had found a way to get us into Hogwarts so I could propose to her where we met."

"What?!" Rose sputtered, nearly inhaling her milk. "Is that even a thing?"

"It was summer. I mean, the school was empty." He pulled one of the biscuits from the milk and stuffed his face with it. He swallowed and grabbed another. "I was going to get the House Elves to light all the candles, you know, like they do on Christmas. And when she looked up, it was going to spell—"

His words got caught in his throat and he shook his head, coming out from his reverie. "Anyway." He cleared his throat. "It never happened."

"Al…" She grabbed his arm and squeezed it gently. "You _will_ find someone."

Someone better. Someone who wouldn't break his heart… or she'd break their legs.

"I know. Supposedly I'm a real catch." His tone was sarcastic and bitter. "Every single woman that works at Gringotts has told me so."

"Well, why don't you try and date one of them?"

It was a legitimate question. Rose had _seen_ some of the women Albus worked with. Their legs were longer than her entire height. She waited for Albus' answer, head tilted to the side.

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"I don't think people are entitled to more than one, great, all-consuming love." Albus' tone was even. "I already got mine."

"Maybe she wasn't your all-consuming love. Maybe she was just a dud."

"I refuse to believe that." For the first time in a while, Albus stared at her, eyes ablaze. "I did everything right. And for four years, I was happy as no man has the right to be."

It was unreasonable how, after all this time, he still couldn't hear Zara being badmouthed. In his mind, despite the fact that she had broken his heart, she was still his one true love. No matter how angry he might be, no matter how dejected he might feel, Rose knew for a fact that if Zara Spencer walked through that door right now, he would take her back without blinking.

"You're being idealistic now," she shuddered, trying to permanently erase that knowledge from her brain. "Plenty of people have amazing romances that fall apart. Plenty of people are madly in love and they end up divorced."

"Rose, you're Scorpiusing this up. Cut it out."

"Shit, I am." The temptation to try to fix other people's problems for them was enormous. She got why Scorpius did it. It was so _basic_. "Do you want a hug?" She plopped out of her seat and opened her arms wide, waiting from him to meet her halfway.

"Yes, please." He did, his tall frame dwarfing hers as he held her tight.

"I'll be here," she promised. "I'll never leave you to your lonesome again. Malfoy sucks." She nuzzled into his sweater. "You have my permission to come into my study whenever…" She felt the need to correct herself, her words trampling all over her good intentions. "Well, maybe not whenever, but when you feel like you really, really, _really_ need a chat."

"That was my evil plan all along." Al supported his chin on her head. "Do you want me to sound proof your room?"

"I'd really like that."

She could feel him chuckling, his laughter shaking the pair of them.

"If you really want me to, I can give you a concussion too. Unconscious counts as sleep, right?"

 _Ah_ , threatening her with violence.

Albus Potter was _back_.

"As tempting as the offer is, just stick to the sound proofing." She let go of him and her lips tightened into a thin line. "Don't fuck it up. The last time you did anything like that I ended up locked in a closet where you somehow made it _rain_."

"Oooh, I remember that." Albus was the picture of childish joy. "That was _awesome_!"

And then, like the child he was, he yawned, warm milk and biscuits kicking in.

Rose stood on her toes and ruffled his already disheveled hair. "You should go sleep. I'm staying a while."

"I'll do the silencing thing tomorrow then." Again, he yawned, dragging himself toward the door.

"Thanks. 'Night Al."

"'Night Rosie."

When Albus left to his room, Rose didn't notice the creaking.


	5. Chapter 5

_Holy heck I just wrote a full chapter about something insanely mundane and dull. I hope you can forgive me but I started writing this and ended up rolling with it._

 _You know the drill. **Review** , **follow** , **favorite**._

 _I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited!_

* * *

 **November 29th, 2027**

It was just a little while until the crack of dawn.

Scorpius Malfoy's bedroom door opened and from it emerged the man himself. He donned his Puddlemere United sweater with pride, navy blue in stark contrast with his pale skin and whiteish blond hair. Yawning, he picked up his gloves from whence they hung and popped them carelessly into his sports bag with the rest of his gear.

The first ray of sunshine shone through the windows, marking that single moment of joyful quiet before Wizarding London woke up.

He felt alive.

Dropping the bag outside his door like he did every single morning, he made his way to the kitchen. As was customary he fixed himself a cup of tea and picked up the paper that his owl Iccarus had dropped on the isle. From there he waltzed, as one does, to the living room.

Kitchen. Tea. Living Room. Crosswords. _Routine_.

Routine made the world go around. It was mindless comfort, salutary acquaintance. It made sense.

Sometimes, however, there was a glitch... like Rose Weasley's blue gaze meeting his from across the room.

He found her sitting at her usual spot close to the fireplace, papers and books sprawled across the tabletop. For someone who had been so keen on having her own office, she spent an inordinate amount of her time out here, ruling over her disorganized little domain. Any semblance of order was completely lost to the unwitting observer. He, however, wasn't unwitting. In fact, he suspected that all the unruly elements were mapped out somewhere in that unfairly brilliant mind of hers.

Scorpius took in her sunken eyes and the dark shadows encircling them. He noted how her oversized pajamas clung from her lean frame. For what seemed like the thousandth time since they had moved, he wondered whether she'd lost weight. She struck him as being tired, _frail_ even.

Never in his life had he associated the walking, talking hurricane that was Rose Weasley with the word 'frail' before.

Then there was the fact that she never seemed to sleep, _ever_. If she did, it was erratic, much like her feeding patterns, which were inconsistent at best. For someone with such an organized brain she led a remarkably chaotic existence.

Rose Weasley was the embodiment of anarchy, wrapped up in a pretty, unassuming red-headed package. Anarchy with a generous splash of nitpicking, the very oddest of combinations.

It drove him mad. _She_ drove him mad.

"Well good _morning_ , Weasley," he chimed, sarcasm painting his words. "The sun is almost up. You should go back to your coffin, lest you burst into flames."

Yes, go to sleep you batshit inane woman. And _eat_ something for goodness' sake.

She smiled at him. Why, oh _why,_ was she smiling at him?

"Glad I catch you, Malfoy," she retorted in an equally cheerful tone that was in stark contrast with her lifeless posture. "A moment of your precious time?"

Had she been waiting for him to wake up, trying to ambush him? His eyebrows knit together, and he allowed himself a moment to ponder on the unlikely scenario.

 _Nah_ , she couldn't possibly have. Except of course for the fact that she could and, given the chance, _would_.

This archetype of chaos was just going to waltz into his peaceful morning, into his beloved crossword puzzle and into his precious tea, wasn't she? Yes, and without even trying. He knew it wasn't her fault; fate always made it so that she ended up unnerving him.

"I have practice," he protested, rather futilely. He was perfectly aware that she would never believe him. For one, it was far too early. Secondly, he had a cup of tea and a paper in his hand that he intended to thoroughly enjoy before said practice. And he'd be damned if he was going to allow her to ruin it for him.

"Not for the next hour and a half-ish you don't."

She was right obviously. Accurate even. "Stalking me now?" he inquired, lopsided smirk growing against his better judgement. "I'm flattered, Weasley."

"Yeah, you wish," she sniggered, blue eyes retreating to the paper on which she had been previously writing. "For some reason I can't fathom, your joke of a schedule is posted on our fridge."

Oh, _that_.

"That was for Al's benefit," he scolded, taking a seat next to her. He opened the paper straight to the crossword section and planted it flat on the table on top of part of the disarray that she called hers. "I'm touched though, didn't know you cared."

"Spoiler alert: I _don't_ ," she huffed, not seeming particularly preoccupied with his intrusion.

"I'm borrowing this," he retorted, picking up one of her quills. He twirled it between long fingers under her watchful and much to his glee, slightly concerned gaze. "What was it you wanted, Weasley?"

To his surprise, she didn't complain, though her eyes were still affixed to her quill. "It'll only take a few minutes," she pleaded, to his amazement. Rose Weasley begging for him to give her the time of day was certainly a first. "Our first month is finally up and we haven't talked money yet."

He couldn't say he was stunned by this new piece of information. Albus had been avoiding this particular talk with his red-headed cousin for a while now. Something about him lying to her in order to get her to move with them, claiming they didn't have the funds to bank the place.

Which was of course preposterous, but that was Al for you. Mindlessly barreling through obstacles and then not knowing how to fix the problems that arose from all the mindless barreling.

Apparently, she had grown concerned about it to the point where she was resorting to him, Scorpius Malfoy. It was all sorts of wrong.

"We already paid for the first month and the security deposit," he started. His 1 acrosswas, rather appropriately, _'highly unpleasant physical sensation caused by illness or injury'_ , four letters _._ A goddamned pain, that's what it was. Perfect to describe this conversation or, otherwise, what Rose Weasley was to his ass. "Monty is practically family. He's fine with us not paying on the dot."

" _I'm_ not okay with it."

My oh _my_ , Rose Weasley was bothered by it. _Shocker_.

"Of course _you_ wouldn't be, Weasley, you have no chill," he quipped. She was one of the most fastidious people he knew. "And what is it that you require of me, hmm?"

"Al's been avoiding me."

Oh, so she'd caught up on that. How _sagacious_ of her. What had clued her in, the fact that he bolted toward the door every time she mentioned 'bills' or 'money'?

"I need to figure this out so I can move on with my life."

He nodded, this time violently scribbling down a few letters on the puzzle. Across 2 was " _causing annoyance"_ , ten letters. 'Irritating' or, alternatively, Albus-Potter-When-He-Decided-To-Dump-His-Problems-On-His-Lap.

Using him as a shield from his own cousin was _low_.

"Fine, Weasley. Just give me the gist, I'm ageing here."

"You'll brief him later?"

"Sure."

This was probably the most civil conversation they'd had since… well, _ever_.

"Well, first of all how do you propose we split the bill?"

"Evenly…?" He shook his head, and looked up at her, brow furrowed, confusion apparent. He hadn't been aware this constituted a problem. "How else would you propose we split it?"

"Well, I'm currently occupying two bedrooms, so I figured—," she proceeded, shifting nervously.

Oh, _that_. Trust her to create problems where there were none.

"Don't be daft, Weasley," he snorted, dismissively waving his hand. "My room is larger than both of yours combined."

"Hardly, Malfoy," she protested, eyes narrowing.

"Lord give me patience," he groaned. "Just split it in three, woman."

"But that wouldn't be—"

"Split. It. _Evenly_."

Her tired gaze met his. Amidst the exhaustion he could see a flash of defiance in them, that one look he had come to know so well over the years.

"You're being a pest, Weasley," he attacked, preemptive striking any of the objections he knew would inevitably follow. "You asked for my opinion, I gave it to you. I don't care, Al won't either."

She sighed in response. He could physically feel her giving up.

Rose Weasley, giving up without a fight. Another first.

Seeing her defeated like this didn't afford him as much pleasure as he had imagined it would. Afterwards he wouldn't have been able to tell you what had possessed him, but he found himself holding out his mug to her.

"Here," he offered. Her eyes went from the still steaming cup to him and then back to the cup. "It's tea." Once again, she hesitated. "Just _take_ the darned thing."

She hesitantly reached out to grab it and he gingerly let go. She wrapped both her hands around it.

"Thanks," she muttered, eyes avoiding his.

Well now she'd just made it awkward.

"I'm going to get another," he professed, standing. He was halfway across the living room before he consciously realized he'd given his morning tea to Rose Goddamned Weasley.

"But—"

"I'll be back," he reassured.

It was hardly six a.m. and he was reassuring people. A little bit too early for social interaction of any kind, much less _this_. He scampered off to the kitchen, all the way shaking his head at himself.

When he finally returned, fresh cup in hand, he found her peering at his puzzle. She was smiling all by her lonesome as she read the clues. He cleared his throat to announce his presence.

"Pretending you can read again, Weasley?" he quipped. "Nobody really believes you."

She had frozen at his words, face flushing red. "You're an ass," she punctiliously declared, reaching for what was now _her_ mug as one would reach toward a protective charm. "5 Across is 'shrapnel'," she gibed, smiling to herself before taking a sip.

"Real mature, Weasley."

"16 Down is 'measles'. I could go on."

"You _monster_." He pulled the paper away from her reach, protectively holding it against his chest. "You have ten more minutes," he warned, throwing a glance at the grandfather clock and raising an eyebrow at her. He then sat down at a safe distance.

"Fine." She glanced longingly at paper, then back at him with a small smile. "40 Down is 'abyss'." He couldn't help but grinning back at her. Now this was more akin to normalcy.

"You just lost yourself five minutes."

"Worth it," she scoffed joyfully. "Do we make a separate account where we put the money or—"

"I can order a transfer to be made monthly into your account. Al too. Then you can unleash your persnickety inner control freak and pay it for us however way you want to."

She looked as pleased as he had suspected she would. He could already imagine the binders with receipts marked "Utilities" and "Rent" proudly lining their bookshelves.

Some people baked. Rose Weasley's equivalent of baking was doing taxes.

"I'm okay with that. Do you need my account number?"

"Text it to me later."

The mixed phones they now had, half magic, half tech (creatively called Magi-Techs) had been one of the Malfoys' saving graces after the war. Scorpius had brought a regular ol' cellphone home for the summer, courtesy of one of his friends. Instead of pestering him about it, Astoria had (in a masterful fit that had been 50% sheer impulse, 50% cunning) decided to invest on the growing industry.

Effectively, that cellphone had been responsible for the rebranding of the Malfoy name. 'Muggle' and 'Malfoy' in the same sentence made for good press. It sold papers. They had made bucketloads of money and in the process, redeemed his legacy.

Grandpa Lucius had been livid.

"Will do. I'll write in the value for this month too."

He nodded and quietly sipped his tea. "Anything else?"

This was probably the longest conversation he'd ever had with her without getting hexed. It was, for all purposes, uncharted territory. He stole a glance at the bowl on the fireplace where their wands now rested, unused and forgotten, then gazed back at her.

She was smiling at him again.

It was _eerie_.

"Just one. Do you have a savings account?," she inquired, leaning her cheek against her hand.

"What does _that_ have to do with anything?" he inquired. Except he suspected he knew _exactly_ what she was doing. She was using the same tone people did when they were trying to convince you to get their particular brand of cable.

"Well, I think you should start saving 5% of your salary," she huffed.

"Well, _I_ don't think that's any of your business," he huffed back, much in the same tone.

"Really?" She didn't _care_ , not really, she just couldn't help herself. She needed to preach the good word of our lord and savior Financial Stability. "There are some really good options for young people at Gringotts. Al could probably get us a good-"

"I will do no such thing, Weasley," he interjected. "Do _you_ save 5% each month?"

He already knew the answer to that. _Of course_ she did.

"Malfoy, c'mon," Rose huffed. "It's common sense."

The woman didn't sleep or eat, but damn if she didn't save 5% every month. It was ludicrous.

"Just because you're a control freak and do it, it doesn't mean _everyone else_ needs to," he sneered. "You're telling me to let go of 5% of my monthly income."

"It's financial _savviness_ ," she nagged, wide eyed.

As if she couldn't possibly fathom why he wasn't jumping for joy at the prospect.

Savings, _yay_.

"You're a grown up," she insisted. "You _have_ to have savings."

"I don't _have_ to have anything, you just think I do," he countered, rubbing his forehead. "It's money that I could be spending on things that I actually enjoy."

"It's just _stuff_ ," she dismissed. "What kind of things do you even _need_ anyway?"

"Not 'need', _want_. Travelling. A new broom. Clothes. _Fun_." His lips tightened in a thin smile. "Not that you would know what fun is."

"Ha, amusing," she retorted, unfazed. "You should be saving about 10%. You'd be starting on training wheels."

"Ha, 10%. You're hilarious."

"Come on Malfoy, you _know_ I'm right," she moaned, her weariness finally showing.

"Of _course_ I know you're right," he blurted before he could stop himself.

Oh, _joy_ now she wasn't going to _ever_ leave him alone.

"Then why are you making this so difficult?" she groaned, despair, confusion and frustration all showing their claws.

She appeared to be exhausted and yet here she still was, pestering him about financial awareness.

Rose Weasley was so bizarre.

" _Because_ … it's such a _bother_." His tone was softer now.

"No, it's not."

"It's a goddamned hassle and you know it."

Bureaucracy always was. He wouldn't have been surprised if she got a kick out of it though.

"I'll do it for you."

"What?!" What?!"You would?!" She _would_?!

"Yup," she nodded in assent. "I can do it when I go take care of the bills."

"Really?" Scorpius grinned back at her and finally saw her relax. "Wow. Thanks, I guess?"

What a poet.

So _this_ was what it felt like to have Rose Weasley as a friend.

 _Huh_.

He could see the appeal.

Picking up his paper and her quill again, he leaned back, supporting the paper against his crossed leg. Eight letters, " _a thing that blocks one's way or prevents or hinders progress._ ".

"It's not a problem, really," she droned. "I'll need you to sign some forms."

"Dump all the paperwork you want on my room," he nodded back dismissively, his mind already engaged. He jotted down ' _obstacle_ '.

"Neat. Thanks, Malfoy."

"Sure, Weasley."

She yawned. Despite the allure carried by his 10 Down, his eyes were drawn to her like moth to flame. "You should get some sleep."

"Thanks. I will." Her gaze met his, humor flashing in her blue eyes. "We should talk money more often. You're almost tolerable."

"Likewise."

Off the corner of his eyes he could see her getting up to her feet. She practically dragged herself to the hallway and out of his line of sight. When he thought he'd finally gotten rid of her, he heard her voice chiming from across the room.

"Hey Malfoy?" He turned back to face her and she beamed at him. "35 across is 'elementary'."

Her smile made his stomach lurch.

"Good talk, Weasley. Now bugger off."

"Leave the quill or get… _quilled_."

The mind of a genius, the self-preservation of a toddler, the humor of a demented nutcase.


	6. Chapter 6

_So here we go. This one is longer and meatier. :)_

 _You know the drill. **Review** , **follow** , **favorite**._

 _I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited!_

* * *

 **December 3rd, 2027**

 _Bless you_ , Albus Potter.

The silencing spell he had cast on her bedroom worked like a dream. It was a nifty little deal, blocking every single possible source of noise from her sanctum of peace. He'd even added some white noise that sounded remarkably like the sounds of her old place.

If the house burned down, Rose would probably burn with it; there was no way she'd hear the alarm or the screams.

Some nights, however, were shittier than others.

After tossing and turning in her bed for what had seemed only a short while, she had finally succumbed and gotten up to get herself a glass of water.

(Because _that_ would help, pfft.)

And then it happened. She had expected darkness and silence. What she found outside was…. neither.

What the flying _fuck_.

Rose dragged herself out of her bedroom, a hand shielding her eyes from the light. Her senses were being assaulted. There was music and general loudness coming from… well, _everywhere_. There were flashing lights coming from one end of the corridor where their living room stood. There was raucous laughter coming from the kitchen.

Rose sighed. It was finally happening.

Albus had guaranteed that their house would be a sanctuary. That he would _never_ , he repeated, _never_ bring here the kind of madcap party he had been famous for hosting back at his parents' place.

Albus' promises were made earnestly. He generally meant them, with every single fiber of his smushy little soul. Unfortunately, he was also plagued with a highly selective memory, which made him tend to forget assurances he'd made that were in the slightest inconvenient.

Her eyes were still adjusting to the light when someone stumbled blindly into the hallway. She recognized Alistair Yardley a split second before he crashed into her, toppling them both to the ground.

" _Shit_ , I'm so sorry!"

Yeah, Yardley, you better be sorry.

He looked genuinely concerned about her well-being as he scrambled back to his feet, and held out a hand to pull her back up to hers. Reluctantly, she took it, glaring at her assaulter.

It was way too early for this. Or late. She wasn't really sure which. Judging by the alcohol in his breath, his loose tie and his crumpled shirt, that was now halfway open across his torso, more time had elapsed than she had felt pass.

It was somehow comforting to know that she had slept at _least_ some.

"I'm so sorry… Rosie? Rosie Posie, are you here?"

Judging by the nonsense question and his slurred voice, she'd been in bed at least three to four hours. No one could get this sloshed in less time.

(Could they?)

Her hand was still trapped in his and she quirked an eyebrow at him. Yardley seemed to remember himself and let go. Unfortunately, he felt the need to instead give her a bear hug.

Oh great, he was a hugger. An enthusiastic one at that.

"Always nice to see you, Yardley," she scowled, her voice still croaky. "Now let go."

"Did we wake you up?" he asked, freeing her from his hold. He looked genuinely concerned.

"What clued you in?" The fact that she was in two sizes too large pajamas perhaps? The fact that her eyes were still crusty? The fact that her hair looked like a mop that got caught in a thunderstorm?

"Al told us you were probably asleep and about the silencing spell so we assumed—" The boy paused for a second, nervously brushing his fingers through already tousled brown hair. He was only making it worse. "I think this may have gotten a little out of hand."

Ya think?

My, my, Yardley. How perceptive.

"I'm so sorry, darling," he mumbled. "Al guaranteed his spell was full proof."

"Nah, it was. I just wanted some water," she dismissed. He looked relieved and she offered him a smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Good talk, Yardley."

Purposefully, she turned toward the kitchen.

This was her house. If she wanted to get a damned glass of water in the middle of the night, she wasn't about to be deterred by a combination of social anxiety and wasted idiots.

She was a grown ass woman.

She could deal with a bunch of sloshed dumbasses.

The prospect of doing so, however, was making her legs move remarkably _slow_. Yardley, bless his soul, was trailing after her in an attempt to continue their conversation. "So where are you working?" he inquired, obviously trying his best to reign in his intoxication.

"St. Mungo's."

"Oh, that's amazing! You finally doing your… er… Healer thing?"

"Yup."

"Are you working with Finn? Finn Binn?"

She sniggered and glanced back at him. She was rewarded with a dazzling smile.

Finn Binn had a really unfortunate name. It was a sensitive topic for the boy but otherwise hilarious for everyone else. It gave him notoriety: everyone knew Finn Binn was working at St. Mungo's. He'd probably make Healer before anyone else.

"Yeah, he's a right twat."

"Yeah he is," Yardley guffawed. He seemed immensely pleased with himself. "Do you like it there?"

"It's okay."

It was worrying how she seemed to become less and less articulate the more nervous she got. And nervous she was.

There were about ten people crammed in their tiny kitchen space, glasses of wine, firewhiskey or butterbeer in hand. She only recognized about a handful of them, but they were obviously very drunk, though not nearly enough.

Rose wished that they were all far more drunk and unconscious.

"Hey folks, this is Rose Weasley!" Yardley called. He was rewarded by a series of incomprehensible yet enthusiastic cheers back.

It was then that Rose Weasley's brilliant mind seemed to give up on life.

With Yardley she'd had some kind of rapport. He was a Gryffindor. He was Al's friend. They'd met a thousand times. He'd gone to Hogwarts with them, for goodness' sake. She knew the bloke well enough to tolerate, maybe even _appreciate_ his well-meaning attempts at small talk.

However, there were now about ten people she didn't _know_ lounging in _her_ kitchen, gaping at her and giggling. She knew they were trying to place the weirdo in the two sizes too large pajamas and the crusty eyes… even though Yardley had literally just introduced her… and this was theoretically _her_ kitchen.

How was it that they were making _her_ feel like she was the one who didn't belong?

(Mind you, she _knew_ this was all her head.)

(It just didn't comfort her as much as it should.)

She could feel herself shrinking behind Yardley, the only familiar tether she had to her chill.

(Her inexistent chill, according to Scorpius Malfoy.)

(Maybe he had a point.)

Yardley took one good look at her, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. She had no idea of what happened, but all of a sudden, he was mobilizing the kitchen crowd. "Make way you idjits. You there, we need a glass of water," he barked, pointing at a red headed bloke who scurried to fish a glass from one of the cabinets. "You two numbnuts, give me butterbeers. About six of them."

Not ten seconds later, a glass of water was being deposited into her hand. "There you go, love!" Yardley was looking awfully pleased with himself. He unceremoniously ushered her out of the kitchen, holding the top of the six butterbeers fast between his fingers. "So Rosie, I haven't seen you in a while!" he continued, as if nothing had interrupted them. "Last time was probably…"

Rose wondered whether Yardley had always been this sharp and she just hadn't noticed. She had always thought he was a bit… _thick_. His jokes had been particularly crude. He had been loud and reckless and kind of a git.

He had certainly changed.

"Al's birthday party two years ago, yeah," she mused quietly, taking a drink from her glass and dodging an over enthusiastic oncomer. "It's been a while."

"Watch it, you fucker!" Yardley shouted at the guy that had stormed past them. "It was a good party, that one," he continued, cheerfully. "But then Potter's middle name was always 'Fun'."

"Where _is_ he anyway?" Rose stopped in front of her bedroom door and looked up at Yardley.

Not for the first time tonight, Rose wondered to herself whether Yardley had changed. Had he been this tall when they'd left Hogwarts? Nah, he couldn't have. Back then he'd been a scrawny kid, nothing like this man towering over her.

On a less bright note, where _was_ the man of the hour? She needed a little chat with Albus 'Fun' Potter about bringing what sounded like fifty people into their home without asking first.

"Living room, doing body shots off of Melissa Peakes," Yardley snickered, waggling his eyebrows. "He seemed pretty happy."

Oh great. Had it been anyone else, Rose might have been pleased. It would mean he was moving on from his monkish lifestyle. Melissa Peakes, however, had big brown eyes and short, curly, blond hair. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who had noticed.

"Boy has a type, what you going to do?" Yardley shrugged, handing one of the bottles toward her. "Butterbeer?"

"Thanks Yardley, but I'm going back to bed."

"I figured you probably wouldn't be getting any sleep after this," he stated, still holding out the butterbeer. "Al told us about your trouble sleeping when he was bragging about his fullproof silence wall," he added, in lieu of an explanation.

"Come on, Rose," he coaxed, waving his wand. The butterbeers clinked against each other between his fingers. "A few of these in your system and by tomorrow morning you won't even remember that Al trashed your house."

"I wouldn't remember much else either," she sighed, laying the glass of water on the floor and taking the buttebeer from his hand. How the heck did one open these anyway? "What are _you_ doing with your life, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm an Apparition Examiner," he replied, grinning and laying down the other five beers on the floor next to her glass. "Sometimes people get splinched. It's either really concerning or fucking hilarious." He took her beer from her and cracked it open, ceremoniously returning it to her. He then picked up another one for himself and popped it open, taking a swig. His grin returned. "I guess our works are related in a way. I'm the one sending in the people with all the missing bits."

She was on her pajamas, outside her room, having a perfectly pleasant conversation with fucking _Alistair Yardley_. This night just kept getting weirder and weirder.

"Yeah, we always wondered who the maniac was," she huffed, taking a drink from her bottle as well. It coursed down her throat, warming everything on the way down until it settled. "This is nice. Thanks." Warm and toasty. Like a goddamned hot water bottle inside her veins.

"See?" He looked amused, almost a little smug. "Butterbeer makes everything better."

Had Yardley always looked this pretty? Had she been blind?!

"YARDLEYYY!"

That was unmistakably Albus Potter.

"WHAT?!" Yardley howled back.

"BUTTERBEER!"

"GET IT YOURSELF, YOU TOSSER!" Yardley cleared his throat and grinned at her, silently toasting the other side of the corridor where the living room was. "This is bound to be fun."

Albus Potter stormed into the hallway, empty bottle in hand. His cheeks were red, his hair worse than hers and Yardley's combined. Rose put on her best Ginny Potter scowl and placed both hands on her hips. She was all but ready to make a scene.

"Albus Severus Fucking _Potter_ , what the actual fuck is going on?!"

Wait, what?!

Surprisingly, that _hadn't_ come from her.

Yardley observed the unforeseen turn of events with a bemused look, leaning back against the wall to better appreciate the scene.

Scorpius Malfoy had just opened his door and then slammed it shut, bed head evident. He was now standing between Rose and Albus, looking the angriest she'd ever seen him.

"And you, _YOU_!" He was now addressing her apparently, pointing an accusing finger at her. He glared at her butterbeer and then looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Are you _enabling_ this shit?!"

"Malfoy…" Rose moved her hands behind her back to hide the butterbeer, eyes bugging out, wide open with shock. "I—"

Albus was looking as confounded as her. "What the—"

"Don't you fucking grin at me Yardley," Scorpius snarled, glaring murderously at the boy. "You shrieking like a fucking banshee was what woke me up in the first place."

Scorpius Malfoy had apparently woken up on the very wrongest side of the bed.

"Malfoy, calm—"

"Don't you fucking tell me to calm down, you twat!" he spat at her. "Congratulations, you fucking woke me up. PARTY'S OVER!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, his raspy voice cracking even further. "Fuck off Yardley and take your idiot friends with you."

Albus still looked too stunned to protest. Rose threw him a sympathetic glance. He'd expected her to be the one screaming at him, which was nothing new. The universe had then thrown him a curve ball, a curve ball in the shape of Scorpius Malfoy.

She might hex people when she was angry, but Scorpius Malfoy had the shittiest temper she'd ever seen.

He stomped across the corridor toward the kitchen, shoulder checking Yardley in the process, throwing him against the wall. "Out of my house _, Yardley_! _"_ She wouldn't have been surprised if it were intentional. It took a lot to seriously piss Malfoy off, but when it happened… oh, my.

She could hear him screaming at people on the kitchen and a few cracks and pops that indicated that people were disapparating. "DON'T DRINK AND APPARATE KIDS!" Yardley howled in the general direction of the kitchen. A few people escaped the kitchen and fled past them, their feet barely touching the ground. Surprisingly nimble, for a bunch of drunkards.

Yardley's dark eyes met hers and he whistled low. "Wow, your boy has a _nasty_ temper."

Rose strongly resented that. Malfoy wasn't her boy, he was Al's.

Yardley was still grinning, as if this were the most amusing thing that had happened to him all week.

"YEAH, YOU TELL THEM, MALFOY!" he shouted toward the kitchen, grinning again when he heard a shout back.

"YOU'D BETTER BE FUCKING _GONE_ WHEN I GET THERE, YARDLEY!"

"Oh well." Yardley didn't look fazed in the least, but he took his wand from his pocket and picked another two butterbeers with his free fingers. "I don't envy you two."

And with a pop, he put his superior disapparating skills to good use.

Albus was obviously drunk. He was just panicking incoherently. "Shit, shit, _shit_."

"It'll be fine, Al," she reassured him, but took quick strides to the living room. She needed her wand. Not that Scorpius was going to hit them or anything, but getting her wand was a perfectly reasonable security measure.

Her breath got caught in her throat when she looked at the living room and she finally understood why Albus was panicking.

Empty bottles were strewn across floors, tables and even the mantlepiece. Apart from her little table, every single available surface had some sort of empty or full container. There was a broken bottle in front of the entrance door. One of their vases was broken. There were appetizers scattered across the floor. In fact, she suspected someone had spilled something on the very spot she was standing; her _feet_ were sticking.

There were a few people staring dumbly at her. "Party over." She somehow felt more assured now that she was kicking people out. " _Now_. Before Malfoy gets here and bashes your faces in."

They did. Every last one of them.

She was perfectly aware that their terrified looks weren't for her benefit. She could practically _feel_ Malfoy's eyes boring holes into the back of her skull. She gathered all the courage she could muster (which, incidentally, was very little) and turned back, her plan to fetch her wand dissolving into thin air.

"What the fuck, Weasley," he growled, his arms flailing wildly. "I thought you'd be the one to stop this kind of shit and yet… and _yet_ …" He'd just seen the living room.

She wouldn't have been surprised if smoke started coming out of his ears.

Neither Albus nor her were Gryffindors and it was in situations like this that it showed.

"Malfoy—"

"JUST LET ME SCREAM, WEASLEY, OR I'M GOING TO START _SMASHING_ THINGS."

Behind him, Albus nodded. He was still looking a little befuddled. Rose actually felt sorry for him.

"Okay," she nodded. "Scream."

Her blue eyes met his… well, his eyes were usually gray. Now, however, they had darkened to a point where they were almost black. It was a little terrifying.

In another situation, she'd be cracking jokes about his soul or lack of thereof, but this really wasn't the time.

"I have fucking tryouts tomorrow morning for the _Montrose Magpies_ ," he spat, his contempt for the words evident. "I wanted to tell you two _all_ about it, but when I fucking get home, no one's even fucking _here_! I take a fucking sleeping draught, which knocked me out cold and should theoretically make it fucking _impossible_ for anyone to wake me up… and _yet_ you manage to! When I _do_ wake up… what the _fuck_ were you two thinking?!"

They really needed to get a swear jar.

Al threw her a pleading look of which the meaning was clear: _do not rat me out or Malfoy will eat me alive_. She could sympathize. He loved her, sure, but not enough to contradict Malfoy when he was in this state.

"When did it become okay to fucking plan parties here without talking to _me_ first?! Weasley, you'd be _livid_ if I'd had any part in this, don't fucking _pretend_ you wouldn't!"

The two of them stood more of a chance of surviving if they stuck together. Malfoy kept shifting his attention between the two of them, meaning he wasn't focusing and preparing to kill either of them. Not killing was good.

"This place is _destroyed!_ I know Albus is an idiot but never, _ever_ in my wildest dreams did I imagine you'd be an even _bigger_ one!"

This was probably the nicest thing Scorpius Malfoy had ever told her. She kept her mouth shut, lips setting into a thin line to try to hide the smile that was growing on them. The ridicule of the situation was starting to hit her.

Maybe it was the butterbeer.

"I can see you grinning Weasley, don't think I don't," he glowered dangerously. "Do you think this is _funny_?!"

She shook her head and looked down at the floor. A small snort escaped her mask of cool.

"You do, do you?! You're supposed to be the _smart_ one!"

Behind him, a snort was able to escape from under the hand that Albus was using to cover his mouth. And then another.

She didn't know which one of them started it, but after a few seconds they were openly chuckling.

" _Seriously_?!"

They only laughed harder.

"So it's okay for Weasley to hex people when she's mad but _I_ can't be angry with perfectly good reason?!" Scorpius was still shouting, but he wasn't looking as confident now as when he'd kicked everyone out. "You irresponsible, inconsiderate _assholes_!"

"You sound like my _mum_ ," Rose guffawed between chuckles, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Yeah mate, you sound like her mum," Albus acquiesced, wiping a tear from his cheek. "Why the hell are you so wound up because of the Magpies? You _hate_ them! You always say they're _garbage_!"

"It's not about the Magpies, it's the _principle_ of the matter!" At this point, Scorpius was starting to look a little unsure of himself. "You guys can't plan shit like this without _asking_ first!"

"You… you… really… think _Rose_ …" Albus was laughing so hard by now that he had to stop to regain his breath. "You think _Rose_ threw… a… a…. _rager_?!" Albus was roaring with laughter at this point. For someone who had been so scared just a little while ago, he was recovering nicely. "Are… you… completely… insane?!"

"Well, I got out of my room and—" Scorpius had gone from unsure to defensive. "She was..."

"And what Scorp?" Albus had stopped laughing and his look was almost predatory, like a tiger about to pounce on a helpless gazelle. "You assumed that Rose Weasley, Queen of The _Nerds_ …" Albus paused and threw Rose a slightly apologetic look. "No offense," he offered.

Rose shrugged, unoffended.

"Rose Weasley, Miss People Phobia _…_ had _what_ , decided she didn't have social anxiety after all and that we should throw a party to _celebrate_?!"

Rose's eyebrow twitched at Albus and he shrugged back.

Malfoy had gone quiet now.

"I can't believe I'm the only one who wasn't a humongous _asswipe_ tonight," Rose sighed as she picked her wand from the bowl and grabbed both of theirs. Her mind drifted back to the pleasant evening she'd been having. "Hey Al?"

Albus looked back at her as he silently started to pick up the scattered bottles.

"Did Yardley get smarter?"

Albus Potter looked at Malfoy's abject look and grinned like the cat who ate the canary. "Nope." He picked up another bottle and then continued. " _You_ were just an asshole back then. Never gave him the time of day."

Malfoy sniggered.

"Shove it, Malfoy. Or I'm petrifying you," Rose warned, throwing him his wand and then Albus'. "I'm pissed at you both."

"You were the one shamelessly flirting with Yardley," Albus huffed, waggling his eyebrows and walking a few steps toward the wand she had just thrown him. It hadn't flown anywhere near his direction. "On your _pajamas_."

"We were just chatting."

"Yeah," Malfoy scoffed derisively from across the room, where he was repairing the broken bottle and scourgifying the floor. "You weren't making googly eyes at him or anything."

"I wasn't." Had she been?! She didn't think she had. "Nope, I wasn't."

"Poor Yardley," Al sighed, with mock despair. " _He_ on the other hand was shamelessly flirting with _you_."

"He was just being nice, you asswipe."

"'Asswipe' is getting old, Weasley," Malfoy growled. "You need new insults. And eyes. And ears. Because the only way Yardley would be _nice_ to you, was if he was trying to get in your pants."

" _Hey_! _"_ Albus protested, his tone ridiculously offended. "Yardley is the purest of souls." He really wasn't. "He'd marry her first." He really wouldn't.

"You guys are jerks," Rose moaned, scourgifying whatever cracked and stomped snacks were currently lining their floor.

Silence reigned on their living room for a while as they picked up bottles and cleaned up messes.

From across the room came a very colourful expletive. "Those savages didn't even use fucking _coasters_!" Malfoy was crouching close to one of the tables, his fingers trying to rub off a ring that seemed permanently etched on the wood. "This will never come out!"

"Coasters, Malfoy?" Albus quipped as he made his way toward the hallway, presumably to dump the bottles he'd been holding for the better part of the last five minutes. " _Coasters_?"

"And _I'm_ supposed to be the anal one in this house?!" Rose protested, looking indignantly at Albus. "I motion we dub Scorpius the Finicky One. All in favor?"

"Aye!" Albus lifted his hands enthusiastically, along with all the bottles he was holding before scurrying off the the kitchen.

"Oh, sod off."

There was silence for a little while, as both her and Malfoy labored, trying to return some semblance of order to their wrecked living room. Albus returned holding a few bags, which he unceremoniously tossed at her and Scorpius. "Are you still trying for the Magpies tomorrow, oh Great Finicky One?" he asked, snorting. "Even though you _despise_ them?"

"Probably, yes."

Both Rose and Albus stopped what they were doing to curiously peer at him.

" _Why_ , though?" Albus looked puzzled. Usually he was a savant when it came to Scorpius Malfoy, but in this occasion, he looked frankly stunned.

"You'd probably get it too," Rose chimed in as she threw a few bottles into the bag that Albus had gotten her. "Their Beaters are absolute trash. _You_ on the other hand _,_ only suck."

"Shove it, Weasley," Malfoy scolded, throwing one of the bags at her. It soared helplessly for a second before falling to the ground. "I don't even _want_ it. I just wanted to show people that I _could_ if I wanted to."

"Well, Malfoy—" Rose's sentence was cut short. The frantic look Albus and his desperate shaking of his head informed her that now would be a great time to shut up.

"'Well' _what_ , Weasley?" Scorpius asked, straightening himself up and staring straight at her.

She had never noticed how damned tall he was. Was he taller than Yardley? Had he grown the past week?!

"Nothing, Malfoy," she murmured weakly. His jaw was set, his eyes cold. It was as if his entire face had frozen. _Emotionless_. Somehow, this was far more terrifying than Scorpius Malfoy screaming. She'd seen screaming. She'd never seen… whatever _this_ was. "Nothing."

Scorpius said nothing else and for a while, you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.

"So about Yardley…" Albus teased, in what was obviously a desperate attempt at steering the conversation away from whatever _this_ was. "I could probably set you two up."

"Don't bother, Al." Rose sighed. "I don't have the time to _sleep_ ,let alone date Alastair Yardley."

"You could sleep _with_ Yardley," chimed in Albus, rather _un_ helpfully. "Two birds, one bed."

"You're an ass," she sniggered back. "I really can't though."

"Yeah, Al," Scorpius quipped cheerfully, apparently brought back from whatever pit of hell had sucked him in. "Remember Thurkell?"

Her heart fell at the name. Rose could feel it caught in her throat, impossible to swallow. She jutted her chin forward and resumed her handling of her bottles.

Thurkell. Motherfucking _Thurkell_.

She could practically hear Albus flailing madly behind her. Unlike her, however, Malfoy didn't seem to get the hint.

"Yeah, _James_ Thurkell, that was his name! Man I'd forgotten all about him." Malfoy was musing now, leaning against the couch. Is she had bothered to look, she would have noticed there was a slight frown on his face. "I never knew what you saw in him. Guy was a douche."

Rose could feel the anger boiling inside her. Anger and something else.

Malfoy continued with his tirade. "He was really proud of himself for a while there, the _fucker_. Nailing Rose Weas-."

 _Thunk_.

Malfoy's body fell with a thud before he had the chance to finish.

Rose gasped.

For the second time that evening, that _hadn't_ come from her.

Albus Potter's eyes were as dark as Malfoy's had been twenty minutes earlier. He dropped the bag he was holding, took a few steps toward her and curled one of his arms around her shoulder protectively.

" _Asswipe_."

That _hadn't_ been her either. And Malfoy was a bit incapacitated to speak so... that left Albus.

"I'm hiring a house elf tomorrow to clean this up," he informed the two of them, cool as a cucumber. This, my friends, was Albus' particular brand of fury, _seething_ _calm_. "Go sleep, Rosie."

She was still reeling with shock. Thurkell was a big deal, sure, but not enough to warrant hexing Malfoy about.

That meant Albus was _projecting_ his own problems.

Which was sad and also a little worrying.

"Night Al," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his torso and holding him tight against her. He hugged her back, and she could feel him glaring at Malfoy.

She had just twisted the doorknob to to her bedroom when she heard Al's voice again.

"If you ever, and I mean _ever_ , talk about Thurkell again… I swear I'll do a great deal more than just petrifying you, you fucking _wanker_."

She quietly shut the door behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

_So sorry I let you guys hanging for almost a week! I had to get a wisdom tooth removed and it murdered my posting schedule. Good news is I have another chapter almost ready to post in a few days :D_

 _You know the drill! **Review** , **follow** , **favorite**._

 _Shoutout to_ The Chirpy Bitch _3 She's amazing and betaed this chapter! If it weren't for her, this wouldn't be out today._

 _I'd also like to thank everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited!_

* * *

 **December 3rd, 2027**

"He _left_ you here?!"

Rose skirted around the limp figure still sprawled on her living room floor, looking down at the motionless body of Scorpius Malfoy. His eyes were still glassy, his posture still rigid from Al's little… erm… _outburst_ earlier.

"The _nerve_ of him!"

Everyone knew you could petrify people all you wanted, so long as you had the decency to thaw them before it started to do bodily harm. Dehydration and low blood sugar were serious business!

It was just goddamned petrifying common courtesy.

She peered at the clock. It was around eight a.m. That meant he had been frozen for three, maybe four hours.

This was _bad_.

"Shit. Al?"

Rose nipped to Al's bedroom. She found the door unlocked, slightly ajar. Opening it completely revealed… _nothing_. The room was bloody empty. Which meant that Al had hexed his best friend and then up and _left_. He had either been drunker than she had assumed or angrier.

She was betting it was a maudlin cocktail of the two.

" _Shit_."

She took the longest strides her diminutive 5'3'' allowed her and rushed back to Scorpius' petrified body.

"Sorry, let me just get my wand."

What the hell was she rushing for anyway? It wasn't like he wasn't going anywhere.

A few seconds later she was back. She murmured the incantation, like she had so often before and praised every deity she could remember that Al hadn't gotten creative with this one. She wouldn't have known what to do if Malfoy had been hit with one of his designer hexes.

Scorpius' body slowly relaxed until his eyes finally closed and he frantically blinked. He was going to need an eyedrop spell at some point. And she was probably going to have to be the one to give it to him.

Goddamnit, Al.

"There we go." She grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. His weight was crushing her. His body easily dwarfed hers. She was what, almost a whole foot, maybe a little more, shorter than him?

She flicked her wand and cast a few strengthening spells on herself until she was finally able to hold him upward.

Working at St. Mungo's had given her a few valuable life skills, that was for sure. However spells to carry bodies that far outweighed her own was one of the few she had never really imagined herself using at home.

 _Especially_ not on Malfoy.

"Nice and easy." She carefully deposited him on the couch on a sitting position. She picked up his feet and rotated him to have him lie down and threw a blanket on top of his legs. "I'll be right back."

She returned a few minutes later with a package of chocolate frogs that she tossed onto his lap and a mug of tea. She sat down on the available space next to her unusually quiet housemate and gingerly handed him the cup, lest he drop it.

"Drink up," she instructed, carefully letting go. He nodded and obediently took a sip. "And eat some chocolate, you look even pastier than the usual."

He bent his knees and she sat down on the space he freed, tucking the blanket tight around his feet. It took a few chocolate frogs and two or three tea refills before he finally managed to croak out something unintelligible.

"What was that?" she prodded, stealing a sideways glance at him.

He cleared his throat, shifting his legs away from his line of sight. "I said thanks," he croaked again, taking another sip.

"Yeah, I know," she grumbled. "It was very good of me not to let you _starfished on our carpet_!" The volume of her words rose. "What _happened_?"

"What happened when?"

"Al hexed you. Al left." She lifted a finger for each as if counting and then made a scissoring motion with them. "I'm guessing somewhere between these two happenings," she cried, her volume and pitch climbing, " _something_ must have occurred to make him pissed enough to leave you _in a full body bind_!"

Scorpius was staring at her as if she were insane.

"How the fuck am I supposed to _know_ what got his fucking panties in a twist?!" he growled back, angrily ripping a chocolate frog package apart. "Like you so sagaciously pointed out, I was in a _full body bind_!" He caught the frog before it leaped to the ground and gave it a bite for good measure.

"He left you petrified and _bailed_!" she shrilled, looking at him as if he were batty himself.

This was what happened whenever they needed to talk. It was as if there was a language barrier in which either or both of them assumed that the other party was following. They rarely were on the same page. They'd gotten better over the years, but it was like trying to see colors in the dark.

"What are you yelling at me for?!" And now he was yelling too, his voice still hoarse despite the tea. "I'm the one who got petrified! Go yell at Al."

" _Because_!" she shrieked, lowering her arms in defeat. "I don't get it and it worries me," she muttered.

" _What_?"

"I don't _get_ it and it _worries_ me. It wasn't that big a deal," she explained patiently, as if he were a very dumb child. "Sure he was _angry_ , he might even be livid, but he left _you_ here. He can't do that. He never did before."

"You're right, it's preposterous," he agreed, throwing her a Chocolate Frog Card. " _What_ wasn't a big deal?"

"Huh?" she mumbled, turning the card around to look at what she'd gotten. She scoffed.

Morgan Le Fay was giving her the middle finger, the goddamned hussy.

"You said it wasn't a big deal," he repeated, shifting his legs closer to the couch to look at her. "Do you mean Thurkell?"

Rose scoffed again. Thurkell wasn't worth a passing thought, much less a full-fledged curse.

"No, not a big deal," she affirmed, swallowing hard. Her mouth suddenly felt very dry. "If it were, I would've hexed you myself."

It certainly didn't bother _her_ anymore. Not at all. Why would it?

Except sometimes it _did_. Like now.

"Then why did he freak out about it?"

"I'll be damned if I know!" she huffed, indignantly. "I genuinely don't have a clue. Maybe some misguided protective instinct along with the feeling that the situation was similar to his and Zara's…" She rubbed her temples. "I don't _know_ okay?! That's what's worrying me, the fact that I have no fucking clue."

"So Al felt Thurkell was a kindred spirit?" Malfoy still looked confused. "But he was defending _you,_ that makes no sen-"

" _What_?" she cried, shaking her head with disbelief. "Why the hell would Al feel like Thurkell was anything of the sort?"

"On account of your dumping him and smashing his ticker into a million tiny pieces like Zara did?"

" _What_?!"

Oh. _Oh_. So that was what he thought happened?!

He thought _she'd_ been the one to end it.

"I did no such thing," she started, clearly enunciating her words. "He was the one who did the dumping."

"Wait, _what_?!"

"Are you naturally thick or do you work for it?" she inquired, sitting cross-legged on the couch to better scowl at him. "Thurkell dumped _me_ , not the other way 'round."

"You're _shitting_ me."

The fool looked surprised. Shocked, even.

"I'm certainly not _shitting_ you," she reassured him. "Wild concept, I know, but _do_ try to keep up, Malfoy."

"You're telling me…"

Oh Merlin.

"Yup."

"That…"

"Yes."

" _Seriously_?!"

Merlin, give her patience.

"Yes, Malfoy," she scowled. "The wanker dumped me and then… what phrasing did you use… oh, _right_ , smashed my heart into-"

"Ticker," he corrected, as if automatically.

He seemed entranced with what she was saying, as if he didn't _quite_ believe it.

" _What_?" she asked, not missing a beat of the rather absurd conversation that was taking place.

"I said ' _ticker'_ ," he enunciated, arching an eyebrow at her. "Proceed."

"Fine, ticker. He smashed my ticker into a million little-" She paused and glowered at him. Her face was now about the same color as her hair. "Is _that_ what you wanted to hear? Are we clear? Are you feeling fucking _happy_ now?"

The wanker, rubbing it in. As if it hadn't been enough to live it, now she had to experience her one single romantic failure all over again for Scorpius' benefit.

"What, no, Weasley I wasn't—" he protested, sitting upwards.

"Save it, Malfoy," she growled, smacking one of his legs and chucking a Chocolate Frog packet at him.

It missed spectacularly.

"Oh, will you just _listen_ , you stupid bint?!" he cried, throwing a Chocolate Frog packet of his own at her head. Unlike her, his aim wasn't shit and her defense was almost as bad as her throw. The chocolate frog connected right with her forehead. "That wasn't at all what I meant. I wasn't trying to rub it in."

"Then what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"I'm not an insensitive cad, Weasley," he argued and, in his defense, he sounded perfectly honest. She just wasn't sure she believed him. "I'd never have brought it up if I knew he'd been the one to… y'know."

"Come on Malfoy," she growled. "I know you think yourself above all the petty squabbles us mortals get into, but Thurkell made a big deal of advertising it when it happened. I don't think a single person in the castle—"

"Are you _daft_?!" he chuckled as if what she'd said was the funniest thing in the world. "The wanker bragging about how _he'd_ broken up with _you_?! It only made me a hundred percent sure that _you_ had in fact been the one to kick his sorry ass to the curb."

Well, when he put it like _that_ , yes, she could see how he could have thought that Thurkell had been overcompensating.

Sadly, that hadn't been the case.

"Nope," she shook her head. "Dumped me after the Herbology N.E.W.T."

"Oof, our last exam? The fucker waited until _after_ the exams?"

"I thought that was actually rather thoughtful of him," she protested, before realizing she was actually defending the jerk. "I suspect his mindfulness was probably due to the fact that I didn't give him the chance to find me or talk to me for _days_ after the N.E.W.T.s started."

"Are you telling me that when he showed up on the Great Hall with Alyssa Mendez the fucker wasn't mending a broken heart?"

 _Ah._ Alyssa Mendez. If we were being honest, Alyssa Mendez a big part of the reason why Thurkell could still get under her skin. Not two days after he'd dumped her, he was shagging Alyssa Mendez.

"Nope," she said, shaking her head. "Made sure I got a good look too. He could have waited a goddamned week at least."

"I figured she was a rebound," Malfoy chimed in, his eyebrows furrowing. "A damned floozy, but still! I figured he was _grieving_."

It hadn't looked that way to her, not the way the asshole had waltzed into the Great Hall with her in arm the next morning and then proceeded to making a spectacle of himself and the damned floozy at the breakfast table.

And then there was the crux of the matter. "He insinuated it had been happening for a while too."

"The _asswipe_ ," he scowled, looking appropriately angry on her behalf.

"Yup. Are we clear on this now?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "Can we–"

"Wait, wait," Malfoy interrupted, waving his hands to stop her. "I still don't get the bit where _he_ was the one to break up with _you_."

"This isn't a goddamned bedtime story, _Malfoy_ ," she growled, her brows snapping together. "Is your brain still petrified or something?"

" _Why_ would he?!" He was still scowling, muttering between gritted teeth, as if there was some sort of piece in the puzzle that was missing. "I mean—"

"You keep saying _shit_ like that!" A crease showed up between her eyebrows, her face red. "Like it's incomprehensible!"

"And it _is_!" he protested, lowering his legs to look straight at her. She turned her head to avoid looking at him. "I mean, you were beautiful, intelligent, witty, connected… I could go on!" Wait what?! "You were a bloody _prize_! And _he_ … was _not_."

 _What_?!

She didn't pause to wonder what was wrong with him. Instead she found herself beaming at him, grinning like an idiot.

"Wow, Malfoy. Did you just—"

She could feel her face flushing red.

"Yeah, I know what I said," he grinned sheepishly, throwing another packet her way. This one missed. "I regret nothing."

"You said I was pretty!"

"Sod off Weasley."

Well, he hadn't denied it. And the word had been 'beautiful', but she wasn't about to repeat that out loud. She might die of sheer embarrassment and Merlin only knew what Malfoy would do.

"You said I was smart!"

"This is why we can't have nice things," he groaned, covering his eyes.

She could see he was also flushed. It was endearing but also hilarious and highly mockable.

"I mean, I'm touched!" she claimed, theatrically brushing her fingers through her red hair. "I didn't know that was what you-"

Once more she was cut mid-sentence.

"That's enough now, _Weasley_ ," he punctuated, throwing her a dirty look.

Ah, getting under Scorpius Malfoy's nerves was always a pleasure. She decided she was going to give it one more shot before closing shop. "You said I was—" The glare he shot her was nothing short of murderous. Her eyebrows shot upwards and she raised her hands in defeat. "Fine, I'll stop."

"You better," he snickered. "And you still haven't told me _why_ he did it."

"Well, he told me that I wasn't as invested in the relationship as he was."

Well that had been a bloody lie. She'd worshipped him.

"Said that I didn't have the time for him."

This had maybe not been as much of a lie.

"That I prioritized studying over him."

That part was just plain true and there was no way to deny it. She'd always been more concerned about school than their relationship, mostly because she had _trusted_ him. She had trusted _them_. Thurkell had known this was their last year and that she was going all in.

"Those were his _reasons_?!" Malfoy's face was a mix between shock, disgust and… laughter. Pure laughter. Oh great, now he was just laughing. "He was dating _you_ what did the tosser expect? For you _not_ to study?!"

Man had a point.

She'd _warned_ Thurkell that that was how it was going to be. And he, like the weak-minded tosser he was, had chosen to throw away a perfectly good relationship. He'd thrown it away because he had walked into it thinking he was going to _change_ her.

Except that had never happened because, at their core, people rarely changed. Not for other people, they didn't.

"Yeah. I mean, he did have a point," she assented, grinning to herself. "I once forgot he existed for a whole week."

Scorpius had started laughing again.

She smiled for a second and then added sternly: "We had been dating for _months_ at that point."

That only made him laugh harder. There was a tear streaming down his cheek now.

After a minute or so of quiet chuckling and a lot of head shaking, he suddenly stopped and gazed earnestly at her.

"I'm really sorry, though," he apologized. He looked sincere, too. "I oughtn't have poked fun at—"

"Oh, it's fine, it's fine," she reassured him, giving his leg a friendly pat. "You didn't know."

"I should have, that's the problem," he retorted, looking serious as he wiped the stray tear with the back of his hand. "Al was flailing like a madman behind you and I just dismissed it because I thought I knew better. It was stupid of me."

Albus knew his shit. Albus was the glue holding the three of them and this house together. He had probably known beforehand that she and Scorpius would be able to sit here together in peace and actually find each other's company something other than grating, exhausting or just sheer awkward.

He would have known even if he hadn't _known_.

"It was indeed stupid of you. Al usually knows his stuff," she murmured, uncrossing her legs and leaning against the back of the couch. Which reminded her of something else Albus had silently warned her about. The lack of eye contact gave her courage. "Are you still trying out for the Magpies today?"

She inhaled and waited.

"It's only at eleven. I'll be fine by then."

"Al was flailing about that too," she mumbled, her hand resting on top of his ankle. "Are you alright?"

She could feel him stiffening. After a few seconds, he relaxed again.

"Yes," he said simply.

She let go a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

"Is it an issue?"

Rose was pushing it, she knew that.

But Albus wasn't here. Which meant she owed it to Albus to be his Albus while Albus was off not being his Albus.

It made more sense in her mind, let's be honest.

"Yes."

Her thumb brushed lightly over his ankle and she turned to face him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not until I know whether I got it or not," he said, shaking his head. His gaze rose to meet hers and his mouth curved into a smile. "Thanks, though."

"Okay," she replied, returning his smile. "For what it's worth, I really _do_ hope you get it."

"So do I." He paused for a second, looking pointedly at her. She immediately let go of his ankle and looked away. "Thanks for the tea and the chocolate. It's doing wonders for me."

"What good is it living with me if not for the free medical care when your idiot housemate hexes you and then up and leaves?" Rose sniggered.

"Yeah, that's a hundred percent the reason why I moved in with you."

The two of them quieted. Al's absence hung heavy on the room.

"We need to talk to Al," she groaned, pulling a pillow toward her.

"I know."

"This isn't normal," she replied, burying her head into the pillow. Sometimes dealing with Al was a real problem.

It hadn't always been. There had been a time when Al didn't even _need_ maintenance. He'd been a jolly old fellow, with little to no issues.

And then Zara had happened.

"No, you're right. It isn't," he agreed, slowly nodding. "But _I_ don't know what to do or say. Do you?"

"I don't," she replied, shaking her head. "Maybe he needs help."

"Of _course_ he needs help!" the blond boy protested. In that moment he looked younger than he really was. "Isn't that what we're talking about?"

"I mean _help_."

Malfoy looked at her as if she were insane. Maybe she _was_ insane for suggesting it, but if they had gotten to the point where Albus was randomly hexing people and not regretting it immediately, there might be serious problems coming their way.

Preemptive striking the shit out of them seemed as good a plan as any.

"You mean like a shrink?" Malfoy's nose scrunched up, his face filled with distaste at the very thought. "Al isn't crazy. He's just hurting."

What was this, 1920?

"No. A _therapist_ ," she groaned, shaking her head. "Someone for him to _talk_ to. Someone who _knows_ what they are doing rather than us poking around aimlessly."

"I don't see how _that_ would help." He sounded like a petulant child who'd been told his favorite toy is defective. "You think he'd talk to someone he doesn't know when he won't even talk to _us_?"

"That's precisely why. Part of the reason he doesn't talk to us is _because_ it's us." She certainly felt like she was talking to a child. "It might do him some good."

Scorpius still looked skeptical.

Ah, these people who didn't suffer from mental handicaps were the very fucking worst.

"Let's say I accept the premise," he started, holding his hands up defensively. "How do we go about getting him to—"

Now they were talking.

"I have no idea. He's probably going to tell me I'm overreacting."

"Yes he will. He'll say that if hexing me is material for therapy you should have been in the loony bin for years now."

"For the last time, it's therapy, not the loony bin," she groaned, burying her head on the pillow. "We could stage an intervention…?"

"He would hate that," he sniggered. "It'll never work."

"Yeah, we wouldn't see him for weeks," she replied, her words muffled by the pillow. She looked up at him once again and he moved his legs away to meet her eye. "I'll need to catch him in one of his talking moods."

Trying to get Albus to talk when he wasn't up for it was like pulling teeth.

From an angry shark.

In a tin of acid.

While the entire world was burning.

"Please do that. And please remind him that I'm his best chum and that he genuinely loves me," he reminded her, his mouth twitching.

"Don't worry, I will," she said, shaking her head. "Man can hold a grudge."

"It's the Slytherin in him."

"I don't think it's the Slytherin. It think it's the _Albus_ in him," she scoffed. "The boy was born that way."

"Yeah, even _I'm_ not as petty."

The pair exchanged a look and grinned.

"Our best friend is an idiot," Rose groaned.

"I just wish I could kill Zara sometimes," he replied, tiredly rubbing his forehead. "Get a time turner and kill her before they ever meet."

"So do I dear, so do I."

"Did you just 'dear' me, _Weasley_?"

Rose shoulders gave a single dismissive shrug. "You called me 'beautiful' not ten minutes ago, _Malfoy_."

"Does that makes us even and therefore mean we'll never speak of it ever again?"

"Not even close," she sniggered. "I still have to repay you for the 'intelligent', 'witty' and 'connected'."

"Oy, I said you _were_ beautiful, intelligent, witty and connected, past tense," he protested, giving her a nudge with his leg. "I didn't say you _are_. I mean, have you even _showered_?"

"Oh, _no_." She grinned. "It's not that day of the year yet."

"You're ridiculous," he quipped, grinning back. "Go back to bed."

Surprisingly, she found herself thinking that might not be such a bad idea. Her bed was sounding pretty great about now. She yawned. Maybe she'd actually get some shut eye if she went back.

"I will," she said, getting up to her feet. "Good luck with the Magpies, _dear_."

"Sleep tight, Weasley."


	8. Chapter 8

_You know the drill! **Review** , **follow** , **favorite**. I'd really like to know your thoughts about how the story is going so far and what you enjoy about this, your hopes for the future, etc, etc._

 _Another thank you from the bottom of my heart to **The Chirpy Bitch**. She's the best editor a girl could hope for :)_

 _I'd also like to thank everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited!_

* * *

 **December 3rd, 2027**

Zara was there.

 _This time_ , Albus realized, she wasn't a figment of his imagination.

 _This time_ , Albus assured himself, she wasn't a dream.

 _This time_ , Albus prayed, she was really _there_.

He could feel the skin of her back, soft against his bare chest, her curls tickling his nose. Once upon a time, he would have pulled away, shielding himself from the offending hair. Instead, he pulled her tighter into him, _closer_ , and buried his entire face into the blond tresses.

 _Closer_.

No matter how close he held her, she never felt close enough.

Most of the time, she wasn't there at all. Always in his dreams, never in real life. The perpetual siren, lulling him into a feeling of perfect comfort and leaving him an empty shell, yearning for her, _craving_ her all over again.

Now, however… he could physically _feel_ her. He _knew_ she was there. She was _real_.

(This wasn't a drill, people.)

And yet he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes and truly wake up. He knew that if he did and she wasn't really there, he would feel his heart break all over again.

He wasn't ready for that. He wasn't about to trade this perfect illusory happiness for his real, tangible grief anytime soon.

Reality was for the sane. He clung to madness for dear life.

And so he shut his eyes tighter and prayed that the morning would never come. To Albus these stolen moments always felt like either a second or an eternity, one or the other, the impossible paradox.

Unfortunately, morning always came.

"Al…?" she moaned, slipping away from within his grasp, rolling over and away from him.

Even though he hadn't yet opened his eyes, the spell was broken. Bitterness washed over him, and Albus silently cursed, feeling the illusion slipping from his grasp. He cursed his weakness for not telling himself the truth. He _had_ known all along, that even though the hair had been right… everything else had been _wrong_.

Her smell had been wrong.

Her voice had been wrong.

The way she had _felt_ had been wrong.

He felt like the most worthless worm alive, clinging to a warm body just because she had a passing resemblance to _her_.

No one would ever be _her_. No one _could_.

Albus groaned and covered his eyes with his arm not wanting to open them and realize just _how_ wrong he had been. Next to him, the naked form of Melissa Peakes stirred again. "Al…?"

"Not yet," he pleaded, his arm reaching out to pull her closer to him. "A few more minutes."

Who was he kidding? Only himself, that was for sure. The moment was gone and clinging to it would do him no good. And yet he mechanically clung to the placebo laying next to him because, like a goddamned addict, he still _needed_ her.

This felt _familiar_. This had happened before, hadn't it? They'd been here before.

He could feel her warm hands gently cupping his face. "Al, open your eyes," she coaxed, placing a butterfly kiss on his forehead.

"Al, darling," she repeated, this time with a firm voice. Tentatively, he opened one eye and then the other.

The real world stared back at him within Melissa's lovely brown eyes, those eyes that always looked at him as if they could see his fucking soul. They tethered him to reality.

He realized he was hungover.

He realized he'd stumbled into her apartment after the party he'd thrown last night.

He realized that he'd left Scorpius laying in their living room in a full-body bind.

He realized he hadn't told Rose where he'd gone.

He realized he was here yet _again_.

 _Fuck_.

"You called out to her," she said, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb. It wasn't an accusation. Melissa Peakes wasn't the sort to accuse. She was beautiful, pragmatic and delightfully fanciful. However, her chief quality had always been the fact that she was _kind_. She was a good egg, the very best of eggs. "Again."

This _had_ indeed happened before. One, two, maybe ten, twenty times…? After a while, he had just stopped keeping track.

"I'm sorry."

 _Was_ he sorry, really? Most of the time he just felt numb.

Melissa shook her head. "It's okay, dear." Her large brown eyes were filled with compassion, and he avoided them like the plague. "I just thought you should know." She willed him closer to her and he buried his head into the nape of her neck.

He knew all about it. Saying Zara's name in his sleep was just something he _did_ at this point, much like breathing or shitting. It was part of the reason his other attempts at one-night stands had been so very unsuccessful.

Melissa Peakes _knew_ though.

Melissa knew because she was a friend, not some floozy he'd picked up in a bar.

Most importantly, Melissa didn't mind _because_ she was a friend.

Melissa put up with his crap like a champ. He didn't know how it had started. Some time after the ill-fated break-up, whenever there was a party and alcohol was imbibed in large amounts, he would invariably end up in her bed.

(At the time, he'd gone to a lot of parties and imbibed large amounts of alcohol to convince himself and everyone else that he was 'fucking fine'.)

The naturally occurring phenomenon had been systematically and empirically tested: party plus alcohol equaled Melissa's bed. She hadn't even _been_ at some of those parties and yet, like moth to flame, he had still _somehow_ ended up at her flat.

"You can't stay." She stroked his hair and he moaned and held her closer in protest. "No, there will be none of that. Not today."

Oh, look at her, implementing _boundaries_.

"Do I really need to leave?" he whined, his fingers grazing the skin of her waist. He wasn't ready to face real life, petrified roommates and the existential emptiness that he was supposed to endure.

Melissa was the perfect distraction.

"Oh, you don't _need_ to leave. I just _want_ you to." Her tone was soft but firm. "It won't do either of us any good."

Because staying the night did? He eyed her with skepticism.

"Don't you look me in that tone of voice," she quipped pulling back to look at him sternly and he smiled back, recognizing one of his trademark expressions. "It's different. Everyone sleeps at night and it doesn't really matter whether you do it here or at your own place. During the day it's different."

"How so?"

"You know why, my dear." Her brown eyes bore into his green ones and, all of a sudden, he felt very frail, powerless even. "Can't be helped. We've tried it before."

He did know why.

During the day the deceit was bared for all to see. During the day, in broad daylight, when he wasn't drunk or passed out, he _knew_ that Melissa wasn't Zara. Which meant that he was flirting dangerously with the boundaries of his sanity and in the process poisoning everything that was still good in their friendship.

During the day boundaries became muddled.

It was always awkward and weird.

"Fine," he grumbled, pulling her close and planting a kiss on her forehead. "But just so you know I was planning to rock your world for two whole days."

A flash out hesitation passed through her face and was gone as fast as it had appeared.

He misunderstood and colored, his face turning a deep beet red.

"It happened _one_ time!" he protested indignantly shaking her hands away. The memory from that unfortunate day came back in waves of embarrassment. "I was tired!"

"No, not _that_ , you ninny!" She pulled him close to her again, fighting his not very serious struggle to break free. "Last time we holed up in here—"

He remembered that. One blissful week of not waking up alone. Seven days of Melissa that had helped him get through a particularly difficult month sans Zara.

"Last time… Oh, will you just _listen_?" He obediently stopped resisting and let her nuzzle into him, her voice coming out slightly muffled. "I actually _missed_ you the first few days you were gone. Enough is -"

Guilt washed over him in tidal waves.

She never got to finish the sentence. She was silenced by his lips crashing into hers, her faint protests slowly subsiding until they came to a halt. She melted into him and his hands buried into her hair, limbs becoming entangled until he wasn't sure where he started and where she ended.

Every single time, he told himself that he wouldn't come back. Yet, like the self-serving tosser that he was, he kept returning here, using her and abusing of her good will. Sure, the sex was amazing but that didn't make them fuck pals.

No, this was far more convoluted and fucked up than just friends with benefits. He had, however, promised himself that he would stop this if he even _suspected_ he was hurting her in any way, shape or form.

Rose always said he tended to forget his promises the second they became a nuisance.

He had suspected she was putting on a brave face. (Of course he had, he wasn't stupid and neither was he blind.) But he was also profoundly selfish and too caught up in his own shit to really care. He had just lamely convinced himself that _of course_ she would have talked to him if she was feeling less comfortable about their arrangement. After all, they were friends, even if _he_ was a shit friend.

This had been the first time she had actually _confirmed_ it. Which meant he couldn't go around denying it anymore.

Now what?

He should be bolting for the door and making good his escape.

This needed to stop.

 _He_ needed to stop it.

But he didn't.

He couldn't. Because...

Instead, he clung tighter to her. His hands left her curls and his arms wrapped around her waist. One of her legs encircled his torso and her fingers ran feverishly through his hair as the two of them desperately tried to close the already non-existent space between them.

* * *

A few hours later he was finally dressed and at her door. She leaned against the doorframe and held the front of her multicolored robe tight.

"So." Her cheeks were flushed red and her hair was wild and unmanageable, but then Melissa had always been remarkably kissable.

"So," he retorted, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Here we are."

He knew he was avoiding her gaze, but that one smudge on his left shoe was looking particularly interesting right now. From the edge of his vision a bare foot appeared and then another as she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his torso.

"Yup," she murmured and he froze.

The enormity of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks and he wished he could just go back to bed with her and ignore the world forever.

This was _goodbye_. It was a second or two before he managed to shake himself back to awareness. "Yeah." He wrapped one of his arms around her. "It was time." His other hand held the back of her head and absent-mindedly stroked her curls, as if it had a mind of its own.

"You'll be alright."

He gritted his teeth. "I know."

"I will _always_ be here." Her hold around his waist tightened before she finally let him go. "Don't forget that."

Now that they had let go, he noticed she was crying. Her brown eyes met his and for the first time in eleven months he couldn't find any pity in them.

Beneath the tears gleamed something very akin to pride.

"I _know_."

She took a few steps backwards and wiped her tears with the back of her hand, gingerly stepping behind the threshold of her door as if to protect herself from him, from _them_.

"Take care, dearest." She offered him a tentative smile and her hand held on tight to the door, nervously swaying it back and forth - never letting it go far, as if the door was the only thing grounding her inside, as if letting it slide even an inch further would make her slide into his arms again.

"Goodbye, darling," he replied, the corner of his mouth curling upward to meet her grin. "We should make time for coffee sometime."

"I would like that very much."

And then the door had been softly shut and the impossible farewell had been delivered.

They both knew this was the last time he'd seek refuge here. Even if he did, he wouldn't find it, at least not _this_ kind of solace. They both knew he would possibly, nay, probably try, driven by an addled and drunk brain.

But this was past the point of no return.

For a few seconds, he stared at the shut door, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he came upon the startling realization that _this_? This was done.

Melissa would no longer be a crutch and, deprived of its float, he felt his heart sink.

How was he supposed to cope with it now?

Oh Merlin no, this meant he was going to have to _deal_ with it.

 _Dealing_ with things wasn't his specialty. He was a Slytherin, his fight or flight instinct was _always_ to avoid, deflect and ignore.

Al's step felt heavy as he treaded down the stairs. He pulled out his Magi-Tech from his pocket to check the time and winced. There were 8 missed calls and 12 unread messages from Rose. He was betting they were a mix of worry and anger, depending on how long it had taken her to find Scorp.

He wasn't wrong.

The messages ranged from "Dear Al, where are you? Love Rose" (because Rose was the sort of person who always wrote texts like your grandma does letters) to "You fucker, Malfoy's toes could have fallen off pick up your bloody phone, Wrath".

Fine, she hadn't really signed "Wrath", but the fact that Rose Weasley hadn't signed anything and hadn't used proper paragraphing was the texting equivalent of using an Unforgivable.

He rubbed the spot between his eyebrows and sighed.

He wasn't ready to take shit from her, not today. Not tomorrow either. The best case scenario would be to avoid the backlash forever, but he figured a few days away would be enough to let Lady Vengeance simmer down.

It had always worked in the past, so statistically speaking… avoidance was _always_ the best option.

He opened the street door, stepping foot into the streets of wizarding London. The cold December weather nipped at his bare hands and he stuffed them into his pockets, pulling his jacket tighter around him.

What time was it again?

After last night's antics, Yardley was probably still asleep. That happened to be awfully convenient because he, Albus, could use some sleep himself. Yardley's house was close by and his sofa-bed was also uncannily comfortable. Best of all, Rose Weasley wasn't there.

It was fortunate then that his wand was attuned to Yardley's lock. For emergencies only, of course.

Fancy that!

Over the past three years, he'd lost count of the number of times he'd had an "emergency" that required him to sleep at Yardley's. These "emergencies" usually implied there was a lot of alcohol involved or a conversation that he was keen on avoiding, often times a combination of the two.

This must surely count as an emergency then.

To Yardley's it was.

Albus sighed contentedly at his problem solving capabilities and took broad strides in the general direction of Yardley's flat, counting on his internal compass to get him there. Every once in a while he caught a glimpse of blonde curls or a purple scarf. Invariably he felt his heart skip a beat and his hands instinctively balled into fists before his entire body relaxed again when he realized they weren't _her_.

His head was always left swimming in the mix of relief and disappointment he'd come to know so well.

One day, he was going to have to learn how to deal with the fact that there were other purple scarves and blonde haired birds out there in the world. Maybe at some point, his head would stop incessantly running through all those highly unlikely scenarios. He always pictured running into her on the street and her begging his forgiveness.

' _Oh Albus, what a fool I've been'_ , the Zara in his mind would say. _'Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake of my life.'_

The real Zara would never say anything of the sort, of course, it was just the ghost she'd left in him that was becoming more and more dramatic - tragic even. His mind insisted on running the simulation, over and over again, pondering on all the possible and impossible scenarios.

There were the ones where he rejected her with fine aplomb.

There were the ones where he just held her tight and never let go.

Thinking about how much of his brain power was wasted daily on these flights of fancy was a little depressing. If only he could get all those moments back, he would probably have the time to find the solution to all five of the infamous unsolved Charms problems in one fell bloody swoop.

If only Zara knew how she was stunting the progress of mankind she'd probably reconsider her horrible life choices.

Humanity's loss. And all for what? Because she hadn't "felt the same anymore".

Anger flooded him in waves that raged and stormed and crashed. He welcomed the anger, it made him feel the most like himself that he had in all these eleven months. Anger beat self-pity. It beat sadness and anxiety. Anger was the closest to sanity he'd been. It made him stop wondering what was wrong with him and ponder what the hell had been wrong with _her_.

At least for now, anger was alright.

Maybe one day he would stop being angry. Maybe he'd be okay.

It occurred to him that he had started using the word "maybe". "Maybe" was a hell of a lot better than "never", which had been his go to up until now.

 _Maybe_.

He tested the word, rolling it in his mind, giving it a whirl, trying it on for size.

Maybe, just maybe, one day he'd be able to see blond hair and not panic about whether his hair was curling wrong or that he had picked a less engaging outfit.

(Because seeing him with the right hair and the right outfit would certainly make her see the error of her ways and rue the day she'd dumped him, yes, thank you very much.)

Maybe one day he'd be able to step foot into his favourite coffee shop again without dreading meeting her there.

Maybe he'd be able to bloody enjoy _cheesecake_ again.

Maybe arbitrary purple pashminas in the middle of the street would stop randomly giving him heart attacks.

He was surprised, but 'maybe' fit.

 _Huh_.


	9. Chapter 9

_You know the drill! **Review** , **follow** , **favorite**. I really appreciated all the reviews on the last chapter! So much love for Melissa :) She'll be returning at some point, along with other characters who've been introduced._

 _Another thank you from the bottom of my heart to **The Chirpy Bitch**. She's the best editor a girl could hope for :) The two of us are now working on setting up a schedule for Witch Slap. As of now the plan is Thursday/Friday every week (we'll need to figure out specifics since we're not in the same time zone), which is really exciting._

* * *

 **December 3rd, 2027**

This was the stuff. Wind in his hair and the ground way back down there, far away from him - exactly where it should be. That endorphin rush just couldn't be matched by anything in the world.

Anyone who claimed sex was better than Quidditch just hadn't had enough of either.

The adrenaline pumping through his veins was as intoxicating now as it had been the first time he'd stepped foot onto the pitch. No matter how the world changed around him, _this_ didn't.

It was the reason he got up every single morning, his daily dose of sheer, undiluted joy.

Scorpius had always felt throttling 149 lbs of iron at people's heads to be oddly therapeutic.

A bludger hissed toward one of the Chasers on his team and he intercepted it, his bat connecting with the menace and knocking it right back toward McCormack, who had thrown it in the first place. It smashed against his shoulder, making the lumbering man fumble and drop his bat, nearly knocking him off his broom.

McCormack cursed loudly and dove to catch his bat, with gritted teeth and his hand clasping his injured arm.

Scorpius threw him a glance over his shoulder and sniggered, before he plunged in pursuit of the second flying little bugger. He didn't need to look to know where it was, he was attuned to it.

He just _knew_.

At some point in his Quidditch career, his brain had rewired to instinctively keep track of the murderous pieces of hulking metal. He could hear the stray one whistling on the other side of the pit, _feel_ it even, with every single molecule of his being.

He leaned forward, gaining momentum, trying to overcome the pesky bludger, then flying toe to toe with it until he finally overtook and cornered it. He could feel it biting his heels, fiercely trying to catch the asshole who was taunting it. He finally turned around and gave it a whack right before the bludger smashed into him, hurling it toward Kelsey Adams.

The other players around him gasped and he tried to tone down the inevitable smirk that was growing on his lips. The girl hadn't seen it coming and was caught unaware. It crashed into her, toppling her over and sending her pummeling toward the ground.

He _lived_ for this shit.

It made waking up before dawn worth it. It made the endless practicing in the rain worth it. It made sore muscles worth it.

It _almost_ made up for the lack of recognition.

* * *

Scorpius stepped away from his broom, his brow glistening with hard earned sweat.

He exchanged handshakes and polite nods with his improvised team and offered a few congratulations to the battered Magpies. His team had lost, of course, but the Magpies had been beat up real good.

Most of them had been on the receiving end of one or more brutal bludger shots. While he could feel they were the teeniest bit impressed, he mostly sensed resentment. In his opinion, it was misplaced, but he knew it was coming from a good place.

Kelsey Adams was their greenest Active Player, a muggleborn Dark Horse, plucked fresh out of Hogwarts. She was the Magpies' Baby, protected, loved and a wiz with the Quaffle.

He, on the other hand, was the asshole who had just broken her wrist.

Technically speaking, McCormack was the one who wasn't there to deflect the Bludger so it wasn't really _his_ fault. It was their job to maim, disable and remove players from the pitch just as much as it was to babysit their own players and guarantee that they didn't get maimed..

He did his due diligence though, bowing at the injured Chaser's altar.

She was sitting in the bleachers, bandaged wrist lying on her lap, the white of the cast contrasting with her tan skin. They nodded at each other, and he leaned close by against the banister. For a few minutes they silently watched the rest of the team proceed with their daily drills, both completely immersed.

It was he who broke the silence.

"Sorry about that."

She looked put off for a brief instant and then turned to look at him, mirth in her green eyes. "No, you aren't." A grin tugged at her lips. She looked pale. The pills probably still hadn't done their job. "Neither should you be."

She was right, he wasn't. Not really.

"Some people think it's personal."

"I was in Slytherin with you," she shrugged. "I saw you shelling out worse back then."

So _that_ was why she had always looked familiar. He scanned her face hoping for anything other than vague recognition and realized he had nothing.

She might have been in Slytherin with him, but he sure as heck hadn't been in Slytherin with her.

"Oh no, you wouldn't have noticed me," she retorted, as if reading his mind. "You didn't really care back then."

He hadn't cared, not for a minute. The only reason why he was now aware of her existence was because it was his job to know.

Back at Hogwarts, however, the number of people that he had felt that he _needed_ to know was significantly lower and he had given himself the luxury of not giving a fuck about, well, anyone. There had been Albus of course and one or two others. But generally speaking, he didn't give a rat's ass about what happened to anyone else.

He especially wouldn't have cared about some quiet slip of a girl.

"I just have a horrible memory for faces, really!" he lied, grinning back at her. "I'm sure if I didn't I would have remembered you."

He wouldn't, of course. His brain tended to erase this sort of useless intel. He had been _raised_ to care, but he tended to fight those instincts with every inch of his soul.

The very word 'networking' gave him hives.

"Of _course_ you'd have remembered her," someone chimed from behind him.

He would have recognized that voice anywhere in the whole wide world.

He felt himself relax and turned to grin at the beaming face of the girl clad in a dress and high heels that always looked oh-so-wrong on her tall and athletic frame.

"Gwen Vane, as I live and breathe!"

Gwenog Vane wasn't pretty by any standards, conventional or otherwise. She had a slightly horseish face and was outrageously tall, with a muscular build. What she did have were unusually large dark eyes that contrasted with her pale skin and a rich, warm voice that could make stone melt.

That and she was one of the few people in this world who he considered a friend.

She closed the gap between them with a few quick strides and threw herself into his arms, hugging him close for a few seconds before her grip slackened. "In the flesh," she jibed, smirking at him, her crinkling nose almost touching his. "Merlin, you _stink_."

Kelsey was peering down at them from the stands with a look of mild amusement. "Fraternizing with the enemy, Gwen?"

"Scared he'll chuck another bludger at you?" Gwen sniggered while taking a step back, her hand tousling his hair as if he were still a kid. For a girl, she was freakishly tall, tall enough that in heels she could almost look at him level. "I'll escort him from the premises if he misbehaves, don't worry."

He didn't doubt for a moment that she could.

Gwen Vane was… well. Gwen Vane was something else.

Her namesake was Gwenog Jones, the legendary Captain of the Harpies. Not only that, she'd been groomed from birth to follow in her father's equally legendary footsteps playing Chaser for Puddlemere.

Rumour had it that Gwen had learned to fly before she could even walk and anyone who had ever seen her fly on the pitch would swear by it. Gwen looked out of place on land, as if she were trying to manage her oddly large limbs and failing miserably. She always looked awkward and gangly and just plain uncomfortable.

Gwen in air was an entirely different spiel.

She flew with effortless grace. She was a goddamned siren of the skies, soaring and floating as if it were a piece of cake. She had made it all look so _easy_.

She had been _glorious_ while sitting on a broom. Mesmerizing even.

Scorpius had always been mad about her. They'd met as kids in the stands of a Puddlemere game. Her parents had been friends with his and they'd shared a box on the day that marked the start of their acquaintance, watching her dad kick Chudley Cannons' ass.

Instead of scorning the kid that she was stuck with, like any ten year old worth her salt would have, she'd welcomed him with open arms. Despite the fact that she was four years older than him, she'd treated him like he wasn't another snooty six year old. She'd treated him as a peer, a fellow fan.

He'd been in awe of her ever since. She was the closest thing to a sister he'd ever had.

She had hardly stepped foot into Hogwarts before Gryffindor had recruited her for their team. Reckless and bold, she'd been a perfect fit for the House of the Foolhardy and Ill-Advised.

"So how's the traitor's life treating you?" he asked, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Was selling your soul really worth it?"

There was another thing about Gwen Vane that made her a woman after his own heart.

She had shit all over everyone's expectations when she realized she didn't _want_ to be a Pro Quidditch player. A mere two months after she'd started playing for Puddlemere she'd declared, laughing as was the norm, that 'it wasn't for her'.

She'd moved out of her parents' house, ignored the media's protests while working odd jobs and eventually became a scout for the Magpies instead.

She'd flipped them all the bird, always marching to the beat of her own drum.

If that wasn't badass, he didn't know what was.

"Real mature you brat," she sniggered in return, merely shaking her head at his taunt. "I've got something for you. See you Kels!" The girl nodded in assent, her curious look shifting to 'oh well' and she linked her arm with his, pulling him away from Kelsey's keen gaze.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he replied, giving her an appreciative once over as they walked to a part of the bleachers that was more secluded. "You almost look like a girl."

"Incredibly, so do you," she snorted, removing a slip of parchment from her purse. "I'm here to give you this."

He took the paper, his brows knitting together as he read the first few sentences.

 _'Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

 _The Montrose Magpies are pleased to offer you the position on Beater, Active Player—'_

"Really?" He looked up to meet her shit eating grin and arched an eyebrow. "I haven't even stepped out of the pitch."

"It was just a formality." Gwen shrugged, planting a palm on his forehead and giving it a nudge backwards. "The second you said yes to the match I had the paperwork all drawn up and ready."

Scorpius's lips twitched. "That desperate huh?"

The past two seasons had taken their toll on the Magpies' morale. After their former Captain and their Keeper had left, the team had never quite recovered. Without the glue that had held them together, the seasoned players and the new arrivals had been thrown off their game.

Regardless of how many hours they put in the pitch, they would never really mesh unless some serious changes in personnel were made.

Which was what he was.

Change. Fresh blood with prior experience.

He was the perfect fit.

"You weren't playing worth a shit, but you still gave McCormack a run for his money." Gwen pulled a face. "It's all I wanted, really."

"I'm going to be straight with you, Gwen –"

"Don't give me that crap and read the goddamned offer to the end, Scorp," she huffed. "You can thank me later."

He did just that, his eyes swiftly perusing the rest of the document.

 _'You will be starting at your earliest convenience. The starting salary will be—'_

"What… the…." He gave a low whistle. "This can't be right."

Had they mistakenly added two, wait, three digits?

"It sure is." Her trademark Cheshire grin grew. "I told them to nab you while they could."

"That's a whole lot of money." It was an _outrageous_ amount of money. What was that in a month? Scorpius did the mental math and inhaled sharply.

That was a whole lot of brooms. And a whole lot of trips. And a whole lot of… _wow_.

"I know what Puddlemere is paying you and I personally think it's a disgrace," she quipped, grabbing both his hands and shaking them excitedly. "Say you'll take it! I'll take amazing care of you."

"Gwen, I'm not playing for the Magpies." He had never, not once considered actually taking this job. He knew the odds of getting it were high, but his resolve had always been strong. Puddlemere was his team, his home, his family.

This? This was just money, he told himself. Everyone knew that money couldn't buy happiness. I mean, just look at his grandparents. They had been loaded and had also been the most miserable people he'd ever known.

It was still a ridiculous amount of money - oh Merlin, why were there so many zeroes?

"But you deserve this!" she clucked, dropping his hands with frustration. "Those twats at Puddlemere don't know what they have. They've got you benched, for Merlin's sake!"

Her large eyes beckoned to him.

'Come to the dark side', they said.

'We have money and actual appreciation for your skills', they said.

The answer was clear in his mind. "Not a snowflake's chance in hell." It physically hurt him to reject it but he handed the parchment back to her, shaking his head.

"You won't get another offer like this, Scorp." She hesitated for a second and then seemed to make a decision. Her eyes became fierce and she grabbed the hand that had the parchment, not taking it, rather tightening his own grip around it. "This here? This is your best shot at the Cup."

She was just playing dirty now. The look in her eyes was the same she'd had when she was playing Quidditch.

Focused. Deadly.

"Wasn't that your goal?" she purred, like the devil she was. She dropped his hand and he crumpled the parchment in his hand. "The Cup before you were twenty-three?"

He swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry.

Gwen had an unfair advantage: she knew him. She knew this particular piece of intel about him because she had been the one he had talked to after leaving Hogwarts.

Back then he had been interning at the Ministry for two months, his soul being sucked dry a little at a time.

Gwen had been the one who had told him to go for it.

Gwen had been the one who'd gotten him in touch with the Puddlemere Scout.

For all intents and purposes, Gwen had been the one who had made him.

He owed it all to her.

And she knew it.

"My, my, my, Gwen." He tutted, shaking his head. "You seem to be conveniently forgetting a teensy, tiny detail about my life goal. Such as, oh I don't know, the fact that I want to win the Cup… _with_ Puddlemere."

He might have been sorted into Slytherin, but there sure as hell was a lot of Hufflepuff in him.

"Twenty-three is just around the corner, Scorp," she retorted, clearly unfazed by his priceless dialectic. "You won't see that Cup."

"Jordan is almost thirty, for goodness' sake," he groaned, much like a child would. Gwen really did bring out the child in him. "He'll be retiring soon."

"They'll replace him with Shaw."

"And right they should, Shaw has seniority. But you seem to be forgetting that Jordan and Elliot are a package deal and when Jordan retires..."

"You'll be passed up."

She didn't even blink.

Scorpius groaned with frustration. "How can you _possibly_ know that?"

Gwen looked at him, opened her mouth as if she were about to say something and then seemed to rethink it and closed it shut. There was something in her eyes that he didn't recognize, which was odd given the fact that he had known her since before he understood what multiplication meant.

"Well?"

She seemed to hesitate, her mouth opening and closing as if she were a fish out of water.

" _Well_?"

"I _know_ ," she replied simply, shrugging. "I just do."

"You can't just ' _know_ ' you ominous asswipe!" His fingers punctuated the quote marks. Oh wow, Rose was getting to him. "I don't get what you're hinting at."

Gwen sighed and took a few steps toward the bleachers, sitting on one of the benches. The odd expression that he wasn't acquainted with was still in her eyes, which she averted to remove her heels. She patted the seat next to her and he took a seat.

"Spit it, Vane," he drawled, scowling at her.

"Ahhhh, that feels good," she muttered. He was really getting tired of her mediocre stalling tactics and was about to protest, but she shook her head and gave him a slight 'shut up' nudge. "Pop quiz time," she started, curling and uncurling her toes with a sigh of relief. "How long have you been playing for Puddlemere?"

"Three, almost four years?"

She nodded, apparently happy that he was indulging her. "And who owned Puddlemere back then?"

Well this sure was an easy quiz. She was apparently going somewhere with this, he'd just be damned if he knew _where_.

"Sebastian Perry."

"Look at you knowing things," she murmured, planting her feet on the cold ground, her mouth curling into a smile. She looked genuinely happy. "Who owns Puddlemere now?"

"Andrew Bell."

She leaned closer, her eyebrows arching expectantly.

He shook his head in response, shrugging.

"That really doesn't ring any bells for you?" She sighed and then grinned. "Ha, bells, I'm hilarious."

"Is there a point to this?" He was starting to become frustrated. Gwen wasn't really the sort to sugar coat things. "How about we skip to the bit where you tell me what's what?"

"We're getting there." Gwen's smile dropped and she sighed. "How many raises have you gotten?"

"Two."

"Really?!" She seemed surprised. "Wow, I would have guessed at least three. They must be really stingy."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, Puddlemere is cheap," he scolded, leaning back against his seat. "What else is new?"

The undefined look returned.

"How many raises since Sebastian Perry retired?"

"I don't get what you're trying to say."

For what seemed like the millionth time, Gwen sighed. "Andrew Bell replaced Sebastian Perry what, two and a half years ago?"

He nodded.

"Let me guess, your two raises were _before_ Andrew Bell's mandate."

He nodded again, this time with the slightest hesitation.

What was she saying?

"Since then you've gotten no raises. You've been systematically cut out of every relevant decision making process. You haven't once, not once, been considered for advancement."

"You're telling me what, that this is Andrew Bell's fault?" It was ludicrous. "I've never even _met_ the man!"

Gwen's eyes met his and, suddenly, he realized what the odd look was.

It was _pity_.

"My point exactly. You've playing for the man for the past two, almost three years and you've never even _met_ him? How long did it take you to meet Sebastian Perry?"

"That… that was different," Scorpius stuttered. "He hired me!"

Was it so different?

"You can be thick sometimes," she scowled, brushing a hand through her hair and giving it a desperate tug.

"You can be an asshole sometimes," he replied, scowling back. "Get to the point."

She seemed to have a maudlin theory that Andrew Bell was to blame for his decaying career. Why would she even think that?

"Gwen, just… c'mon."

Usually Gwen _knew_ things, though. She knew _everyone_ in the Quidditch world, mingled with players and suits alike. She milked her legacy for all its worth, charming the pants out of anyone who thought she was insane for throwing it all away. They still thought she was insane, but they liked her, loved her even.

That meant that if Gwen said it, odds were that she knew what she was talking about.

"Bell hates you." Wow, that had been brutal. She wasn't sugar coating anything anymore. She sounded oddly calm, which contrasted with the havoc she had just wreaked in his little world. "More accurately, Bell hates your dad. He can't fire you because, well, the Wizarding World would be all over his ass."

It would. After the war, the pursuit of an equal and fair society had become a priority. This fortunately seemed to include him and his family. The media backlash would undoubtedly be phenomenal for a high profile case like his, no matter how many people agreed that all Malfoys should be hung.

"But he won't allow you to move on either." She sniggered, shaking her head. "Grown men can be petty too."

So this was about his dad? Wow.

"Wha-?" He struggled to find the words, his brain moving at a million miles an hour. "Why?"

The War. _Shit_.

"Something about his sister. Probably best if you ask your dad."

His _sister_.

He'd grown up knowing that, just as Albus Potter had been born with an advantage in the eyes of the Wizarding World, he had been born with a handicap. (Judging from the particular way that Al saw the world, both their legacies were bloody awful.)

His parents had prepared him for that, told him that sometimes, people were going to give him shit about who he was.

He had known it was bound to happen at some point… yet it was the first time he had fallen face first into a wall of bias like this one.

For most of his life there had been hurdles. Some were bigger, some were smaller. He'd powered through, unhinged, sometimes unscathed, others livid with anger. History of Magic had been hell, but he'd made it through. The N.E.W.T.s had been a horror but still he'd endured.

Those had been hurdles, mindless prejudice.

This was _personal_.

"I can't. We don't talk about it at home."

Whenever any specifics from the past were brought up, his dad's face fell. His mother, bless her soul, always jumped to his defense, like a fierce lioness protecting her young.

The quiet, calm woman could be surprisingly scathing when she wanted to.

"I don't know the details so I'm definitely not going to be the one to tell you," she continued, leaning back against her chair and stretching her arms above her head, cracking her neck. "I just know that there's bad blood between him and your dad."

It felt oddly relieving to know that it wasn't his fault. That he didn't suck. Usually he _knew_ that he didn't suck. And yet sometimes there was a tiny nagging voice on the back of his brain that told him that he was a failure.

That voice could now go fuck itself.

Did his parents know?

Was that why they'd always acted so off about his job? They had never been openly disapproving about his life choices before the Puddlemere debacle.

His dad had always refused to tell him how he should manage his life. He gave advice when it was requested, sure, but Draco Malfoy would die before he _ever_ told his son that he _needed_ to do… well, anything, really.

And yet, on the topic of his sporting career, Draco Malfoy always remained especially tight lipped. There had always been a tinge of… _something_ ; he had just always assumed it to be silent disappointment.

His mother, open book that she was, always let out hopefulness in spades. From the reactions he'd gotten from her, she was hopeful that he'd do… well, _anything_ else.

At one point he had made a joke about how he might as well start a side business of selling butterbeer outside, what with the time he spent on the bench, and she'd actually looked _enthused_.

He'd always thought it peculiar that his mother, who had always shown a biblical disdain for anything resembling menial work, would have been thrilled about the prospect of him entering the game snack business.

This just might explain it.

He now wondered just how much of it had been concern or guilt that he'd misconstrued as dissatisfaction.

"I'm not taking the offer, Gwen." Scorpius stiffened ever so slightly, straightening himself on the chair. "I wasn't going to when I came here and I'm sure as heck not taking it now."

He wasn't backing down, especially not now that he knew that his lack of opportunity didn't span, from his own incompetence, as he'd often supposed.

"I'm not naïve, Scor. I know powerplay when I see it," she rubbed the back of her neck, turning to face him. "I know you only tried out to show those dickheads at Puddlemere that you could do better. That even hungover on a goddamned Saturday morning, other teams- other people thought you were _good_."

She was right, of course. Her job was knowing people, reading them.

"I'm not hungover," he protested futilely. "I'm—"

"I don't care," she huffed, carefully untangling the crumpled slip of paper from his hand. "Call it what you want. What I know is that you weren't playing worth a damn, compared to a few other times I've seen you fly." She gently patted his head with the offer, as if by doing so it might permeate his thick skull and start to make sense. "And yet you flew well enough that they signed the paperwork before your feet even hit the ground."

"They did?"

He could feel his ego inflating. Damn her, she was good at this.

"Feels good, eh?" Gwen tapped him lightly with the paper again before handing it to him. "Think about it." She picked up her shoes from the ground and gingerly slipped her feet into them. "Argh, heck. I love my job, but I hate the shoes."

"I'm not going to say yes, Gwen" he replied, his gaze switching from the parchment in his hands to her, not quite sure what to do with it. "Puddlemere was always my team. Heck, you should understand, Puddlemere was _your_ team." His voice had risen an octave and he suddenly felt very tired and very alone.

Who was he trying to convince, really, her or himself?

Gwen's eyes softened as she looked up at him and she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, softly ruffling his blond hair with her hand. "It's not your team anymore, Scorp. Your team was the old Puddlemere. The Golden Age Puddlemere."

He could have moved, but he didn't, leaning into her instinctively.

"The Puddlemere we loved was the Puddlemere that had Ackles. We loved the Puddlemere that had Stone and Denver. We loved the Puddlemere that had my dad," she continued, clearly still trying to fight the inevitable with tooth and nail. "Scorp, you can't stay there." She let go of him and their eyes met. "You'll never leave the bench. McCormack and Fisher are retiring. You'll be a shoo-in. We'll bring in whoever you want to bat with you."

She must know by now that he wasn't buying what she was selling.

"I'm hoping these tryouts will change the situation," he replied simply. "Andrew Bell may hate me, but my team sure doesn't. He can't control everyone."

Gwen sighed. He could see in her eyes, those ridiculously large eyes, that she understood. She might not like it, but she understood.

"Want me to spread the word that Scorpius Malfoy is back on the market?"

"Single and ready to mingle," he sniggered. "Free as a bird. Make them squirm."

"I'll personally rub it all over that snivelling recruiter of yours. Maybe that'll make them see the light."

She didn't really look as if she thought they would, but the look in her eyes told him that poor Alfie, the Puddlemere scout, was in for a treat.

"You do know I love you, right?" he asked, giving her a friendly bump with his arm. "You're the best."

"Yeah, yeah. I know," Gwen shrugged, grinning for a second before she turned dead serious. "Scor, if they don't see the light… you _need_ to think this through. You're wasting your best years."

"I will, I promise."

He would, but he wasn't leaving without putting up a fight first. He was going to do his worst and if after that Andrew Bell still didn't let him play… well, he'd be damned if he wasn't going to burn the man's house down and wreck his toys on the way out.

"We should have lunch sometime," she said, getting up from the seat and stretching again. "I know you're basically a shut-in but I've heard you moved with Potter and Weasley." A smile tugged at her lips and she stared without seeing at the players in the distance with an amused look. "It's rather hilarious if you think about it from a historical standpoint."

It was, really. Byproducts of the Golden Trio and the Malfoy family all living under the same roof. He was glad good ol' Lucius was dead, because he certainly would have died from it. He was probably rolling in his grave everytime Scorpius _cooked_ for a Weasley.

"It's going oddly well, if I'm honest," he shrugged. "Al is… _well_ , Al is Al. And Rose…" His mind went back to the conversation they'd had a few hours prior and he smiled at himself. "Well. Rose Weasley is _something_."

Gwen tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him ever so slightly. "Book me on your busy schedule sometime, will you? I'd really like front-row seats to see that circus." The bemused look hadn't left her face. "I'd love to meet your little family."

'His little family'.

That was one way of putting it.


	10. Chapter 10

_You know the drill, **review** , **follow** , **favorite**._

 _So many new followers and reviewers and, er, favorit...ers? I'm really happy to know that you guys have been enjoying Witch Slap! I got some really amazing reviews from new readers too, and they really blew my mind!_

 _Apparently I owe y'all an apology. I had been oh-so-good at posting on a weekly basis that I decided "yup, we can schedule posting, I got this"... and then I remembered that I was going on vacation and whoops, I didn't have a chapter buffer built yet. Now that I'm back, with a little bit of luck it won't happen again! :D_

 _I thought I'd post this ASAP (mostly because it's really late), but the schedule will resume next week!_

 _I'd like to thank **The Chirpy Bitch** once again (we love her, you guys). She is the one keeping this show on the road, whipping this chapter into shape! _

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**December 7th, 2027**

It was not the first time that Albus Potter, Coward Extraordinaire had sought refuge at Alastair Yardley's Humble Abode. It was also not the first time - and Scorpius suspected, it wouldn't be the last one either - that Scorp had found himself in the awkward position of having to remove him from the premises.

He usually did so grudgingly and at Yardley's behest.

Now let us be clear about something: Scorpius Malfoy did not consider Alistair Yardley a _friend (_ at least not in the traditional sense). They were friends-in-law. Throughout their Hogwarts years they had shared an affinity based on the common burden of being part of the innermost circle of Al's friends and acquaintances.

After a couple of years, the pair had resigned to the fact that the other wasn't going to magically disappear any time soon.

It had bred a kinship of sorts.

The first of his barrage texts had read: "Come collect your husband, he's starting to get on my nerves."

It had elicited a derisive snort from the blond boy. If Albus wanted to camp out at Yardley's, that was Yardley's problem.

 _Not_ his.

Then, a day later, had come: "Your best friend SHAVED in my bathtub. I'm not sure WHAT he shaved. Come get him before I attempt an Unforgivable on myself."

Scorpius had read it in-between practice and his lips had curled upwards right before he had set the Magi-Tech on _silencio_ and gone back to chucking iron at people.

(In fairness, Yardley had always been a drama queen.)

The third and final text was more to the point. "I'll throw in all the butterbeer you can drink if you come get him in the next hour, final offer."

Yardley's wish was Scorp's command. On a regular basis the blond Beater might treat his body as a temple... but in his personal time, free butterbeer was free butterbeer. He wasn't made of money and Yardley wasn't the sort to skimp on quality.

It was therefore against his very beliefs to refuse free beer - just as it was against Yardley's to buy anything worse than Emmerson's Golden.

That explained how he now found himself in front of Yardley's Humble Abode on a Wednesday at 9 o'clock in the evening.

(In his mind, Scorpius always capitalized it because "humble abode" or "Yardley's place" couldn't possibly do it justice.)

(There was absolutely _nothing_ humble about Yardley's Place.)

"I'm here for Alistair Yardley. He's expecting me."

The doorman, Horace, had known him for years and yet he always contrived to look at Scorpius as if he were the unsavoury genetic offspring of gum on the sole of one's shoe and a rodent carrying some distasteful venereal disease.

Lucius Malfoy would have liked him immensely.

Yardley's mum had owned a company that managed magical hazardous waste that still held an outrageous percentage of the market. She had died in an unfortunate accident involving said magical hazardous waste and a firecracker when Yardley was still at Hogwarts.

It had been then that the fourteen year old had come into his… "independence", as he called it.

From what little math Scorp had done over the years, based on his friend's… er… pecuniary habits, Yardley's independence was closer to the gross domestic product of a small African country than to a modest pension.

He stood outside the gilded doors of Yardley's Place until the floppy haired tosser decided to open the doors. "I think I have something of yours," he grinned, tugging his unruly hair with his fingers.

Yardley's hair always looked as if it had survived a hurricane. He suspected Alistair spent quite a lot of time in front of the mirror every morning trying to achieve that particular look.

"Where is the bloody wanker?"

Yardley leaned against the doorframe and spoke loudly, much too loudly for any naturally occurring conversation. "Why Malfoy, what a curious _coincidence_!"

Scorp couldn't help meeting Yardley's enormous grin. His idiocy was the sort that was eager to breed.

It was _contagious_.

"I was in the neighbourhood and decided to pop up for a beer."

"I was _not_ expecting you _at all_!"

"Where is he, Yards?"

"In the kitchen," Yardley whispered in a conspiratorial tone, motioning for him to come in. He then raised his voice and shouted: "It's simply _delightful_ to see you! Oh my, have you been _exercising_?!" He wrapped an arm around Scorpius' shoulder and continued in a sotto voice, dragging him along: "Making himself at home, the _wanker_."

Albus was the sort of person who could make himself at home in a bloody minefield. After three days, Scorp would be more surprised if Al _weren't_ wearing Yardley's briefs.

He took a few steps into Yardley's lobby and gave the place a once over. "Did you get robbed or something?" The house looked different from the last time he'd come here to get Al.

Emptier.

"Redecorated," Yardley corrected. "Ex-girlfriend was into minimalism," He waved a dismissive hand around and herded him toward the kitchen. "And rock climbing. Tough couple of months."

Always had been nonchalant about worldly possessions, Yardley. The couch on the lobby probably cost more than the entire furniture in their flat, but to Yardley it was just a _thing_.

His living room had the square footage of an olympic swimming pool and yet the bloke always hung out in the kitchen. The man had three empty bedrooms and two bathrooms permanently locked shut because they, and he quoted, "made the house feel too big".

"She wanted everything gray and white, it was ridiculous -"

Scorpius' mind tuned out Yardley's droning and treacherously drifted to the Magpie's offer as it had so often in the past three days. He'd carefully folded the paper and stuck it into his wallet. He still wasn't going to take it and yet his brain kept wandering to the number on the paper.

"Super into nature and exercise. Did I mention the rock climbing? It was bloody awful, she insisted I-"

Those zeroes could have been translated into a series of very expensive couches of his own. And brooms. And Rose could have pestered him about saving 10%, even 15%, and it wouldn't have made a significant dent in the ridiculous amount.

"And the food, don't get me started on the food! It was all green-"

But _no_ , he had to have _principles_.

"- no protein! I got used to the furniture after a while, it's kind of feng shui-"

"Oh, can it, Yardley."

"That's just hurtful, Scorp my boy. I thought we were _bonding_."

A voice sounded from the kitchen: "Is that Scorpius Malfoy I hear?"

Yardley walked into the kitchen and went straight for the fridge. "In the flesh." There was a sort of wink-wink-nudge-nudge smile on his face as he opened the door and turned to ask: "Butterbeer?"

"Sure thing, Yards."

The first of many, one would hope.

"Good to see you Scorp!" Albus straightened himself up, gracing him with a smile that expressed very little guilt for having absconded him in a full body bind. "Did Horace give you the stink eye again?"

"Always," Scorpius sighed in mock dejection. "Horace is very disapproving of me, y'know."

"Took him _years_ to warm up to me," Albus quipped, shaking his head. "He thought Yards and I were in a secret relationship. Which is ridiculous of course, because it was the time when everyone 'knew' _we_ were in a secret relationship."

There had been plenty of rumors at Hogwarts. Surprisingly enough, the idea that they might be gay had only helped their odds with the finer sex.

Girls were weird like that.

"Told 'im you two were an item a few times," Yardley stated, handing Scorpius a beer and taking a seat next to him. "He didn't buy it. I think he thinks you stole Al from me and hasn't gotten over it since then. Very protective of me, Horace is."

Albus raised his partially empty beer bottle and Yardley and Scorpius held out with their own, clinking the three of them together.

"So Al," he started in a casual tone. "It's been five days."

"You know how it is," Yardley quipped, "he came here for a visit and then remembered how superior I am to you in every possible way."

"Sod off, Yardley."

"It's my house, you tosser, I ain't doing anything of-"

"Don't mind him, Yards my boy," Al interrupted, a smile on his face. "He's just peevish because he missed me most dreadfully."

It was true of course, but Scorpius would be damned if he ever admitted it.

Albus collected friends like they were chocolate frog cards, amassing the mismatched bunch without any apparent rhyme or reason.

Scorpius, on the other hand, did not. His friends were few and far between. He liked to call himself 'picky' when the truth was that he was a bona fide snob when it came to the people he chose to associate with.

It wasn't that he was a snob like his father had been, oh no. He just disliked everyone equally.

Mind you, he wasn't friendless, per say. There was Gwen, of course. There was Kate Towler. There was Charles… oh, posh, he had people, alright? It simply meant that whenever Albus was gone he always felt utterly and profoundly _lonely_.

"If you'd like me to, I can leave you two lovebirds alone." Yardley sniggered.

"Oh, can it Yardley," Albus chimed in, unruffled with the remark.

"I don't know how you two survived all these days," Yardley continued, examining his bottle with a musing look, "what with you being his other brain cell and all."

Both him and Albus expressed a few nasty expletives in a vain effort to explain to Yardley just how much of a fucking tosser he really was.

"It's all loving words with you guys," Yardley protested, in tones of mocked hurt. "You're giving me this uncanny feeling like you guys don't _want_ me here."

"Give the man a prize." Scorp rolled his eyes and took another swig of his beer.

"Unusually sagacious of you, Yards."

"Such a pity this is _my_ home," Yardley replied, getting up from his seat and retrieving three new bottles. "You boys want to take your homoerotic affair elsewhere, it's fine by me, but I'm not leaving my own darned kitchen."

"On a brighter subject… _you-_ " Scorpius took the beer from Yardley and murmured a thanks before turning to Albus and giving him a look that might have freezed over hell. " _You_ , my friend, are in trouble.

"Oooh, I'm shaking," Al returned the look with a hint of teenage defiance that he was yet to overcome.

For someone so brilliant, Albus had always been impossibly childish - even by Scorpius' standards.

"Not from me, you knob," Scorpius retorted, clinking his beer against Yardley's. "Rose was worried stiff about you."

"Shame on you Al," Yardley said, "for making Rose worried stiff."

The pair of them were now attempting to present a united front of adulthood and responsibility.

"Rose, schmose," the childish Object Of Their Reproach retorted, frowning a little, his color rising. "I'll pick her being worried over angry any time of day."

"She was _prostrate_. Didn't eat or sleep for days." Scorpius said, in a carefully modulated tone before his facade was cracked by a rogue grin. "Of course that may be due to the fact that she's studying again and therefore her brain has forgotten the concepts of 'rest' and 'nourishment' all over again."

"That's nice, you can go home now!" Yardley was looking a bit too pleased. "I'll bet she doesn't even remember your name."

"You guys are assholes, the pair of you!" The Object Of Their Reproach was becoming Weasley flushed at this point. "I thought you liked having me around!"

Albus had never been any good with confrontation. Scorpius almost took pity on him.

Keyword being 'almost'.

"Seriously though, you should answer people's calls," he attacked with renewed vigour. "I tried you a few times and nada. You could have died for all I knew."

That was of course unlikely, but it was Rose's strongest argument to defend her histrionics. Clearly she'd never bunked with him before, or she'd be more familiarized with Al's disappearing act.

"I-I've been busy!"

"Yeah, busy eating my food and drinking my beer!" Yardley retorted, clearly bemused. "Take him away Scorp, I don't know how you tolerate this asshole. He's been wearing my clothes too. He stretched my favorite sweater."

How, Scorpius wouldn't be able to tell. Albus might be the tallest of them but he was also the gangliest.

"As much as it pains me to agree with Yardley, the tosser is right," Scorpius continued. "Come home you asshole. Rose isn't going to tear you a new one. I'm not going to either."

Heaven knew it wouldn't penetrate that thick skull so what was the point, really?

Scorpius ought to have kicked his ass, though. Rose's level of concern had risen from anger to near panic at some point in the first two days. It had been amusing at first, and yet he'd never been more thankful than when she'd been clubbed over the head and rendered comatose by that new essay from hell.

"He'd be running for the hills before you even started." Yardley gave Albus one of the pointed stares he was famous for. "I almost resent the fact that he only visits when other people decide to scold him."

"I do not, Yards, I spent half my time here not even two months ago."

"Because your parents scolded you!"

"Seems 'bout right," Scorp agreed and then quietly laid down his beer in front of him. "I wanted to tell you that I tried out for the Magpies, you wanker."

There it was. Out. In the open.

A few years ago, Yardley's mere presence would have deterred Scorpius from having the mildest of conversations with Albus. Now, however, Yards was like a piece of really annoying furniture that he kept stubbing his pinky toe against.

(In truth, it just meant that Yardley was a friend, not that Scorpius would have even considered that a possibility.)

(Seriously, everyone knew it except him.)

"But you hate the Magpies," Yardley protested in horrified tones, as if he'd just told them that he enjoyed eating newborn babies. "You despise them!"

"How the fuck do you know I hate the Magpies?" Scorpius turned, and glared at Yardley. "I never told you that."

"Because you're not my only friend, you tosser," Albus clarified with an infuriatingly patronizing tone. "I talk to people other th-"

"Oh shut up." Yardley hushed him and put on his best I'm-such-a-great-listener-look-at-how-focused-I-am face. "How did it go?"

"I resent the fact that he's more into this than you," Scorpius protested, glaring at Albus. "Does the name Bell… ring a bell?"

Oh Merlin, kill him now.

He was recycling Gwen's jokes, for Morgana's sake!

"Oh, Merlin, kill me now," Yardley groaned burying his face on his hands. "That was so bad."

Shit.

"Andrew Bell who owns Puddlemere…?" Albus looked slightly confused. "Yeah, I mean, I know _of_ him, never met the man myself..."

This seemed like a poor reenactment of his conversation with Gwen. It was déjà vu of the pathetic kind.

"Brilliant of you, but not that Bell. The _name_ Bell," Scorpius clarified, adding for good measure: "Have your parents ever said anything about a Bell? Not Andrew. From their time at Hogwarts?"

"Well..." Al's face furrowed with the concentration of one who doesn't really listen when his parents drone about the good ol' days, trying to find information within the garbled bits stored in his mind. "Katie Bell was on their Quidditch Team, I think…?"

"Elsie's mum?" Yardley's eyebrow rose with apparent recognition and he nodded. "Yeah, I think she played Quidditch for Gryffindor with your dad. Chaser, I think."

Who the hell was Elsie?

"Yeah, that would be her," Albus said. "I wonder how you know more about this than I do."

"Because I'm an educated sort of fella, whereas you just ain't."

Scorpius cleared his throat. "Elsie...?"

"Elsie Goshawk," Yardley clarified for his benefit. "Ravenclaw, a year younger than us. Dated Fortescue for a while. Amazing rack, a face that looked like she had been trampled on by a hundred angry elephants?"

Scorpius shook his head. The name Elsie Goshawk meant nothing to him. Should it?

"You wouldn't know her," Al reassured him, taking a nonchalant swig off his beer. "She wasn't into Quidditch, so you'd have missed her entirely."

"I think her younger brother is though," Yardley added helpfully, "he's playing for Gryffindor."

Still didn't ring any bells.

"What else do you know about her mum?" Scorp inquired.

Eesh, this was almost as bad as the Gwen conversation. Like pulling teeth.

"Not much," Albus' brow furrowed a little and then he shook his head. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing about my dad?"

"Not that I know of," Al shrugged. "Why, you think Elsie with the face like an unmade bed may be your long lost sister?"

"I can see the family resemblance," Yardley sniggered, "though your rack isn't half as nice as hers."

" _Urgh_. Why do I even try?"

"Ignore him. What's up?"

"Apparently Andrew Bell has it in for my dad."

Yardley whistled low.

"Plenty of people hate your dad," Al shook his head in confusion. "What's the issue?"

Here was The Point and over there was Albus Potter, missing it entirely.

"Yeah, but Andrew Bell is the only one of them who _owns_ his ass," Yardley explained, patiently. "It's inconvenient."

"Very true," Al replied, still looking unconvinced. "Unless you count the asshole who evaluated our Arithmancy N.E.W.T.s. Why is this a problem though?"

Yardley groaned. "What part of _owns_ his ass don't you get?"

"You're unusually bright today, Yards," Scorpius pointed out concernedly, raising a hand to measure his temperature. "Are you alright?"

"It's the company, I'm rubbing off on him," Al grinned as he watched Yardley swatting away Scorpius' hand. "What can Bell _do_ to you, anyway? You're already on his team, it's not like he can fire you."

"According to Gwen Vane, he's the one keeping me benched."

"I always thought you were benched because you weren't up to snuff," Yardley offered in jest. "That and because two people would need to retire for you to get a shot at the big leagues."

It was technically true.

But it was also true that most teams retired their players when they were growing moldy, like Jordan and Elliot.

"If I talk to my parents I'd like to see how long _that_ lasts." Albus quirked an eyebrow, a look of defiance briefly crossing his face.

Yardley on the other hand was looking rather amused, as if this were all a game and a rather hilarious one at that. "You could do him one worse and tattle to Aunt 'Mione."

"Uncle Ron will be _pissed_ ," Al added, visions of raining fire and blood came to mind at the very thought of the Granger-Weasleys being involved. "They'd tear him apart. The bloke would have to flee to Chile or something."

"Chile is really nice, he doesn't deserve Chile," Yardley quipped, grinning. "But yes, Bell won't know what hit him."

"It's just conjecture at this point!" Scorpius protested. "I don't have _proof_."

"Proof-schmoof," Albus huffed waving a dismissive hand. "Mum and dad have been madly in love with you since that Christmas you made Ever-Burning Amortentia Candles for them. They'd flip their _shit_ if they caught a whiff of this."

"Wouldn't know what hit him." Yardley grinned. "Aunt Gin would turn Andrew Bell into a goddamned pin cushion."

The two of them were so simplistic. It comforted him a little to know there was a solution at the tip of his fingers. However...

"You can't tell them." Scorp shook his head. "Not yet at least."

"Why not?" Yardley looked frankly puzzled. "The more the merrier I say. It'll be a slaughter fest."

"I need to talk to my dad first."

Not that he knew _how_ he was going to broach the subject, really. 'Hey dad, some fucker really hates your guts. I suspect you already knew this and, if so, why didn't you tell me? Also I'm thinking about getting the Golden Trio involved to save the day, how _do_ you feel about that?'

Yeah, those were the grounds for a conversation with his parents going very south, very fast.

"What good will that do?" It was Al's turn to look puzzled.

Ah, Al's notorious dislike for talking to his hero parents was showing again.

"I don't know," Yardley huffed, "because _people_ talk to their parents even though _you_ don't?"

"You never cease to amaze me, Alistair," Scorpius said, throwing him an approving look. "Yup. Because _we_ , unlike you, have outgrown our teenage years of angst and actually trust our parents' judgement."

"I don't talk to my parents because-"

Al's protest was cut short.

"Because they don't understand?" Yardley quipped, snorting.

"Because you're the poster boy for Middle Child Syndrome?" Scorpius offered.

"Because you're a teenage girl?"

"Because-"

"Oh sod off, you fuckers," Al interrupted. "There's nothing weird about not running to one's parents crying whenever shit hits the fan."

It was true, of course. But in Al's case he did it for all the wrong reasons, like a misplaced certainty that he was the least favourite child out of the three and that he somehow needed to prove himself worthy.

Which was ridiculous, since anyone who had been in the same room as him and his parents would have been able to tell with absolute certainty that Albus was their golden child.

Anyone except Albus.

"Whenever shit hits your fanny, _we're_ the ones who need to hear about it," Yardley offered, draping an arm around Al's shoulders and giving him a tap on the forehead. "And _we're_ not equipped to deal with real problems yet."

"Plus," Scorp added, though not unkindly. "You didn't hesitate to bring them into this the second you heard I was in trouble."

For which he was really thankful, mind. It was just sad that Albus couldn't see his parents would move mountains for him if he only _asked_.

"That's privilege for you," Yardley sniggered, pulling away from Albus and getting up to fetch himself another beer. "Oooh, I'm so independent… until you need something from almighty and powerful mummy and daddy."

Al looked dumbstruck by the notion.

"I fucking _am_ independent, thank you very much," he growled, getting up and testily swiping the beer bottle from Yardley's hands. "And my parents don't have that kind of pull, just Aunt 'Mione does, 'cause of her being, y'know."

The British Minister of Magic.

"Don't have that kind of pull, really?" Yardley groaned, pulling another two beers from the fridge. What was it, their fourth? Fifth? "Your dad so much as _farts_ and the next day there's an article on the Prophet about how his gas cures juvenile cancer."

(This was true. Aunt Gin had found it priceless and she'd had the page framed and hung on the wall.)

(It was a recurring joke in the Potter household to poke fun at The Boy (now Man) Who Lived about how, whenever there was a less pleasant aroma in the air, 'none of them had cancer so if he could kindly stop trying to cure them it'd be swell'.)

"I wonder if it's genetic," Scorpius mused pensively.

"You and I both know it ain't, Malfoy," Yardley replied, patting his shoulder. "We both know it ain't."

"Why the fuck do all of our conversations end up being about my parents' farts?" Albus groaned, burying his face on his hands. "We're better than this!"

"Well, you may be, but it's what us commoners who weren't born of the Golden Trio do to pass the time," Yardley explained, enunciating each word carefully. "What _do_ all of you War Hero spawn do for fun?"

"What were we talking about anyway?" Al's face dropped from his hands and he hit the counter with his forehead. "You guys, please kill me."

Oh yes, the actually relevant topic they had been discussing.

"This started as a conversation about how I'm supposed to deal with my doomed career."

"Ah yes, your doomed career," Al said, lifting his head and meeting his eye. "All this edifying debate made me forget about it."

"That's what happens when you hang out with brilliant conversationalists like Malfoy and myself."

"I sometimes wonder why I give you two the time of day," Albus moaned. "I need new friends, is what it is."

"Because I'm a fucking delight and because you feel sorry for Malfoy."

"You're a wanker, Yardley."

"Takes one to know one, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous that I'm taller than you."

"Are we starting the dick measuring portion of our evening?" Al interrupted, with an exaggerated eye roll. "Because I could do without."

"Al," Yardley asked in a singsong voice, "tell him I'm the handsomer of the two."

"I will do no such thing, Yards. The consensus of the female population elected Scorpius the king of Handsome."

"Even Rose admits it," Scorpius sniggered, remembering the incident when she had accidentally complimented him. "She thinks I'm _pretty_."

"She does," Albus confirmed. "And what's more, she's essentially blind when it comes to the male population, so it's kind of a triumph."

"Is she out of the closet yet?"

Sometimes Yardley, for all his wit and charm, was a sodding little asswipe.

"Just because she doesn't give you the time of day it doesn't make her a lesbian, Yardley." Albus' eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. "As far as I know she's straight as an arrow. I just don't think she _cares_."

"It's kind of demeaning how much she doesn't fucking notice," Scorpius brooded with a dramatic sigh. "I could parade around the house naked and I doubt she'd even acknowledge I was there."

He'd once left the bathroom with only a towel and she'd looked straight _through_ him, lost in her little world. It had been almost insulting. He had to go spend half an hour in front of the mirror just to make sure that his abs hadn't gone missing.

"That's just because it's _you_ parading around the house naked," Yardley snorted derisively, "who in their right mind would want to see that?"

Al laughed heartily at his comment. "You could wrap your dick with a _bow_ and she wouldn't even spare it a glance, Yards," he deadpanned.

"It would have to be a big fucking bow."

 _Eesh_.

"I just remembered why I think you're a prat," Scorpius sighed. "This isn't worth all the butterbeer in the world."


	11. Chapter 11

_You know the drill, **review** , **follow** , **favorite**._

 _So here's the thing. I am no longer going to attempt to stick to a posting schedule because apparently I suck. Just know that I'm still here, have not abandoned this and will keep publishing new chapters in a somewhat timely fashion._

 _Thank you The Chirpy Bitch for your support, ily!_

* * *

 **December 18th, 2027 - 16h45**

Rose's forehead felt cool against the table top. It was a nice contrast with the cold sweats and breathlessness that seemed to accompany her whenever she was balancing rotations, classes and exams.

Sitting on her right side was Jesse Boot. She could hear his famous impression of Healer Ogden from under the heavy haze she was in.

"You have to be realistic, my dears, realistic!"

It was famous not so much because it was accurate but because it had an uncanny way of summoning its impressionee. Rose lifted her head and looked around, scanning the room for Ogden…

 _There_ he was.

It was like chanting Bloody Mary three times and poof, the man himself, waltzing into the cafeteria, the ever permanent frown etched on his lined face.

(She felt like she was enveloped with plastic wrap, struggling for breath.)

Sitting on her left side, was Penny Nicholson. She was scarfing down her dessert as if she hadn't seen food in months, not a care in the world. (Apparently, she'd forgotten all about the diet she was supposed to be following.)

Chill Pen. No one's going to steal your shitty cafeteria gello.

"You really should eat something, y'know?" Penny eyed her critically and gave Rose's tray a tentative push toward her. "You look like the living dead. Aren't you hungry?"

Projecting now, are we Pen?

"I'm fine," Rose protested, pushing the tray away, her nose crinkling with disgust. "I-"

What she _wanted_ to say was that felt faint and overwhelmed and the very thought of ingesting food made her stomach churn.

That she couldn't take it.

That she felt like she was underwater.

That people who are drowning tend to need air, not food jammed down their throats.

"I-"

Instead, she stuttered again, coherent words seeming to elude her as they so often did. How was it that she could tear Scorpius Malfoy a new one for not saving 5% one day and then the next have problems producing coherent sentences around people she actually liked?

"Lay off her, Pen." Whopee. Jesse seemed to be taking her side. How generous of him. How, oh how would she survive without this impromptu defense, this knight in shining armor? "Mr. Spalding got sick on her this morning."

Indeed he had, and all over her scrubs. Thank Merlin for Scourgify. Not that it helped, really… To say she looked like shit would be a understatement. A gross one.

(Incidentally "gross" was what she felt like, scourgify or no.)

"What do you have today?"

Always keen on keeping the conversation flowing, Jesse was. It was one of his many remarkable qualities, along with his shitty impressions and dashing blue eyes.

Alas, knowing when to shut the hell up wasn't one of them.

If she had any energy to spare she might have felt annoyed.

"Magical Bugs rounds with Healer Choi." Rose breathed, ripping the corner of a napkin with slightly shaky fingers. She paused for a second and lowered her quivering hands to her knees, willing them to be still. They didn't. "Mostly cases of Shivers lately."

It was almost ironic. Except her shivering was unfortunately not caused by a (curable) magical bug. That would have been too easy.

"My condolences," offered Jesse, his hand rising to his chest for a second before adjusting his glasses. "Choi is always… something."

By Rose's estimation, Choi was just peachy, that is, considering most of her teachers were sadistic, frustrated assholes. If anything he seemed to dislike people even more than she did. It was kind of relaxing, not having to smile all the time. She suspected Choi might have her whipped if she had attempted it, which would explain why Smiling Lil' Jesse had such a poor opinion of him.

"I'm on Clinic today," Pen interrupted with a shit eating grin on her face, green eyes sparkling with excitement. She looked far too happy for someone about to be subjected to the horrors of excrement, diseased genitals and primitive healing. "See if it's today that Thatcher finally lets me stick a needle on someone."

"Muggle medicine is barbaric," Jesse shuddered, grimacing.

"Just because you are a sissy and faint at the sight of a little blood-"

"Well _you_ on the other hand seem to like it too much!" he cried out. "We're healers, not butchers!"

"Calm your titties, mate," Pen replied, Cheshire grin ever present. "I'm just pulling your leg. What do you have today, then?"

"I've got Pediatrics."

Pediatrics was okay. It was heartwarming at the very least.

The crying could drive a person a little nutty if they were sleep deprived. Not Jesse. No, not Jesse. The fucker seemed to be thriving on his three to four hours.

"Jeffers or Fleming?" Pen inquired smiling. She looked genuinely interested, like they weren't talking about the soul sucking leeches that kept them sleep deprived and depressed every single day of their lives. "I heard Jeffers let Finn help with a baby that had Teleportitis."

How did they do it? How did they keep themselves alive, let alone talking? _Joyfully_ at that. Rose herself felt like she was constantly on power saving mode ever since she'd started.

"Flemming."

"Tough luck."

They chattered on amongst themselves, apparently forgetting her in their eagerness to get human contact. They talked trash about other Healers, about their fifth year research project, about their fucking hopes and dreams.

And all the while she kept staring blankly at them and wondering how.

How the hell did people do it?

How were they all well adjusted human beings while she… while she was flailing, _failing_ , constantly grasping at straws? Barely functioning?

"I'm going for a smoke."

Had that been her voice? Why was she standing? Already her hand was on her pocket, nervously fumbling for the cancer packet.

"Want company?" Jesse didn't even wait for a reply, already on his feet. Solicitous as ever. _Assuming_ she wanted him to come with her. Assuming she was just as desperate for a smile and a kind word as he was.

Had she had more gumption she might have told him that no, she didn't require his assistance in her quest to slowly kill herself, thank you very much.

That she might enjoy a second alone instead of having to put up with their incessant yapping.

That she was tired, miserable and wanted to enjoy her cigarette in peace and quiet. Maybe cry a little while she wondered why she was such a goddamned mess.

That while her parents had been through far worse and, as far as she'd been told, her mother had never resorted to smokes and tears, _she_ just wasn't as strong.

Instead, Rose nodded. Talking would have been too much of an effort and she just couldn't be fagged.

Pen got up as well and together the three of them dragged themselves to the courtyard, away from prying eyes, where she could contribute another smoke to the ever growing list of things she regretted.

* * *

 **December 18th, 2027 - 17h30**

She looked around her, eyes glazed. Spread across the rows of beds, partially hidden away by impeccable white curtains, people writhed and moaned in agony.

Shivers, was spreading like wildfire this Autumn, the magical common cold ravaging children and adults alike. Heat sweats, high fevers, persistent vomiting and uncontrollable shivers, hence the name.

What more could a girl want?

"Miss Weasley...?"

There was a voice calling her, muffled by sixty hours of sleeplessness. It sounded far, far away and her brain pushed it aside..

On one hand, Rose still felt like something you'd find in your shower drain.

On the other was the pain and suffering of the many.

It gave her perspective.

"Miss Weasley!"

It made her own problems seem petty in comparison. She felt small, humbled… and she hated them for it. And she hated herself for being so basic.

" _Miss Weasley_!"

She was startled from her reverie and her blue eyes focused to meet Healer Choi's. It had been his voice calling her. It had been his voice that her brain had tuned out.

Shit.

"Glad you could join us."

She could slowly feel her colour rising as she looked around her, still slow on the uptake. She was in Magical Bugs. From the clock on the wall it was… half past five. Which meant that she had somehow followed them all the way from the lobby to here and had tuned out for half an hour at the very least.

Merlin only knew what they'd been talking about in the meantime.

The reactions of her classmates were varied.

There was Mr. Alec Teacher's-Pet Sauvage, sporting a half grin. If she had to rank him on a scale of exhaustion he'd be maybe a three. His dark eyes were bright, slight bags under them. His hair didn't look disheveled and he was standing straight, proud. He was obviously rejoicing at her being caught unaware. Somehow, Alec seemed to be under the impression that _she_ was competition of some sort, never realizing that, most days, he was the only one playing at all.

Alec was a bloody git.

Then there was Mercedes Do-You-Need-Anything Lewis, a sympathetic look on her angelic face, framed with golden curls. Her blue eyes were compassionate and kind and full of concern for her well being. She was beautiful and gentle and everything one would want in a woman.

Rose wanted to smack her more than she wanted to hex Alec. Harder too.

The third and the last of her esteemed peers present here today was Finn. Finn Binn. He needed no middle name because he was already notorious enough as was. A mop of red hair and freckles that would make her dad jealous crowned his head and face. His awkward gangly limbs drooped and there was a sad excuse for facial hair growing on his upper lip.

As per usual, Finn was too engrossed on Lewis' heaving bosom to notice anything going on around him.

Out of the three he was possibly the only one she had some sympathy for. It wasn't his fault that his smarts only extended to bookish knowledge and that he had absolutely no social skills whatsoever.

Plus, he looked tired. Not as tired as she felt, but tired nevertheless.

And then there was Choi. Lined face frowning at her. Then again, he was always frowning so she guessed she wasn't in too much trouble.

"So… Miss Weasley, now that you're back, can you tell us what we have here?"

She peered at the patient file on her clipboard, her squinting eyes quickly skimming the text.

Squinting because the letters felt blurry and maybe like they were moving a little? Who knew, really?

Nevertheless, squinting helped and reading very, very fast was one of the very few skills she had been given in life; might as well make the most of it.

As usual Alec was far too enthused with the opportunity to hear the sound of his own voice. He jumped right into it, not even pausing for breath.

"Rory Mason, fifty-three, complains-"

And got smacked on the face with a clipboard for his troubles.

"I said Miss Weasley. _Are_ you Miss Weasley?"

Ah, Healer Choi, a man after her own heart. Rose tilted her head to the side and watched as Alec's petulant grin was wiped clean from his face.

"No sir, I'm sorry-"

"Now I truly didn't know your name nor did I care really…" Choi paused and clasped Alec's name tag between his thumb and forefinger, tapping it lightly against the boy's breast. "Alec Sauvage. At some point in the next few months you'll wish I hadn't bothered to learn it."

Alec visibly swallowed. Rose might have grinned, but she was too tired to do anything of the sort. Moreover, her heart still seemed to be locked in a vice of anxiety after being scolded.

"Now, Miss Weasley…"

"Rory Mason," she croaked in response, her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat. "Fifty-three, complains of eye pain and slowed movements. Some joint pain."

For the first time since she'd returned to the world of the living, Rose actually _looked_ at the patient, lifting a single eyebrow. The man was bleeding from his eyes.

"Medical history includes a few isolated cases of the Shivers along with a case of recurring Spotted Snake."

Spotted Snake was contracted by being bitten by, you guessed it, a spotted snake. They gave the patient eye bleeding and a sort of breathlessness.

(The people who named diseases in the magical world weren't the most creative folk.)

Again she took a look around her.

Alec was still somehow managing to look smug, despite the fact that he had just gotten his ass handed to him. As usual, Lady Pity looked very, very sorry for the poor, poor widdle man. As for Finn…

Finn was a simple man with simple tastes. He had managed to detach his eyes from Mercedes' breasts long enough to realize what was going on and was now looking at the man's bleeding eyes with an air of absolute fascination.

"Talk. Discuss. Examine and talk to the patient. No touching. Five minutes."

Chaos ensued.

Alec and Mercedes were both eagerly talking at the same time, way too fast for her to even bother trying to keep up or pitch in. Trying to be insightful and impressive - she gathered from the way they kept stealing glances at Choi.

It would have been useless anyhow, since none of them were really listening to what the others were saying, overwhelming the patient with questions for answers that they could easily have gotten from the chart.

"It's obviously a recurrence of the Spotted Snake!"

"Spotted Snake doesn't give people eye pain!"

"Sir, have you recently travelled abroad, maybe to Asia or somewhere exotic?"

"It could be Ortug's-"

"Are you an idiot? He complains of joint pain as well!"

"He's fifty-three, not seventy!"

Rose's eyes drifted to her chart again, mostly because what alternative _did_ she have, really?

Her eyes focused on the text. Slowly but surely, the quibbling voices of her classmates were drowned by the rhythmic sound of the written word. Her lips pursed ever so slightly at the patient ID number on the chart.

It was _wrong_.

Not wrong in the sense that it spelled "boobs" when you flipped it around or anything like that. Wrong in the sense that any patient who was fifty-two years old and who had been assigned a number forty something years ago would never have an ID number so close to her brother's.

Which meant Mr. Rory Mason was actually a standardized patient. For all purposes, he wasn't even a person.

She might have laughed. "There's nothing wrong with him." She didn't even look up, the words spilling forth with no filter.

Again, she _might_ have laughed. She certainly felt like it, but she was pretty sure the last time she'd gotten some shut eye had been three days ago. Laughing was _difficult_ when every bit of you ached.

"How dare you say that, Rose? The poor man is obviously in pain!"

"He's _bleeding_ from his eyes!"

"Are you completely daft, Weasley?!"

You can probably guess who said what. Rose felt herself shrinking a little at the volley or indignant protests and insults from her peers. She looked up at Choi, tired look conveying a silent question.

He nodded once in response, frown ever present and then added levelly: "He is most certainly _not_ fine, Miss Weasley."

"Don't be a ninnyhammer Weasley, it's at least a recurrence!"

"Rose, how long has it been since you slept?!"

"He is _bleeding._ From his eyes!"

Her esteemed colleagues had obviously missed the interchange.

Fine, so Mr. Mason wasn't really Mr. Mason but Choi _still_ wanted her to play ball. That meant the man couldn't just have something obvious like recurring Spotted Snake like Alec was defending, _no_. Dummy patients were usually presented as a ways to introduce students to new situations or diseases.

Which meant she was looking for something strange and/or exotic.

"Right." She shrugged and nodded back. She took a single breath to calm herself. Her eyes widened a little and her nostrils flared slightly before she relaxed again. "Right you are."

What was that _smell_?!

Rose pulled a bench toward herself. Might as well sit down.

She needed to think and her thinking was somewhat... limited at the moment. If the patient was a dummy, odds were she didn't even need to look at him, she'd just need the file.

She took another whiff: there was a very mild metallic aroma on the general vicinity.

And that was when it hit her. It smelled of her previous intuition being _right_.

She might be insane from all the _not_ sleeping, but she was still _right_.

It felt pretty good. She really needed a win today.

(She wanted to rub it on Alec's smug face. She wanted to shout it out to the whole ward that she, Rose Weasley, addled and sleep deprived or not, was the Queen of Irrelevant Paperwork Facts.)

The Two Musketeers - Finn was still too busy gawking at the patient's eyes - went back to their bickering. They argued, compared charts and diagnostics and kept bombarding the patient.

Rose sat quietly, lips slightly pursed, brow furrowed in concentration as she examined the chart again.

Except...

 _Was_ she right though?

(She could feel her heart frantically and somewhat inconsistently pounding on her throat. Arrhythmia at best.)

Did she just _think_ she was right? Had she _imagined_ Choi nodding?

(Maybe she'd faint and this would all be done with.)

She looked at him now and he didn't _look_ like he might have nodded.

(Or maybe the lack of sleep was finally catching up with her brain and rendering her utterly useless.)

Oh dear. And now there was no time to-

"Time's up. Mister Alec... _Sauvage_." He rolled the name around his mouth like he really enjoyed saying it. "Final diagnostic."

"Recurrence of Spotted Snake."

He looked pretty damned sure of himself. Might want to reconsider, Alec my boy.

"Miss Lewis?"

"Same."

Less confident. She knew she missed something.

"Mister Binn?"

"It's probably Corpseblight."

Good for him! And good for her!

Guess she wasn't in the wrong. Guess despite his lecherous leering and unfortunate name there was a reason people remembered Finn Binn.

Alec and Mercedes didn't seem to agree. Mercedes looked almost offended, while Alec seemed to think it was hysterical. Better yet, he _was_ hysterical.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN CORPSEBLIGHT, HE'S ALIVE!"

"Miss Weasley?"

"Corpseblight."

"Are you both insane?!" This was Alec again. "Has none of you ever read a book?!"

"Why do you think they are wrong, Mr. Sauvage?"

"Because… because, I mean, it's _obvious,_ isn't it?! The man is alive isn't he?!"

"It wouldn't be the first time necrotic diseases have tried to seize the living, Mr. Alec Sauvage. Maybe _you_ should try to pick up a book sometime. One not included in the mandatory curriculum."

Mercedes still looked stunned, her big eyes shifting between Finn, Rose and the patient. She took a single, deep breath… and her nose crinkled. And then she took another, more tentative sniff. And another.

Rose could practically see the light bulb lighting over her head.

 _Ding_.

"Oh." And then again. Her full lips curled and she smiled. " _Oh_."

"Miss Lewis, since you're the last to arrive at the party would you care to explain to Mister Alec Sauvage so he can join us on the side on enlightenment?"

"Oh yes, sure Healer Choi." She looked like she was about to cry of excitement. "Mr. Mason… do you… er… know any vampires?"

The man grinned. There were sharp fangs where his regular teeth had been.

"Oh, how did we not notice…"

One word, peaches. _Retractable_.

Alec had quietly slinked back as far away from Mr. Mason as he could. He looked a mixture of disgusted and scared and just plain annoyed.

Sucks being wrong, doesn't it?

Rose could practically hear his thoughts. 'Of course!', he was thinking. 'It's obvious if you know he's a vampire!'

Well ya didn't, sweetcheeks. Possibly because you're a bloody racist asshole and it never occured to you that vampires are also people in their own undead, special way.

So sod the fuck off and wipe that look off of your face.

"Make it quick, Miss Lewis."

"Necrotic diseases can sometimes be contracted by the living dead," Mercedes parroted. "They can also be contracted by people who... erm... _consort_ with them."

Sexually transmitted, Mercedes. Sexually transmitted.

Rose liked the girl so much better when she wasn't being nice. The fact was, much like Finn and even Alec, she _was_ smart. Brilliant even. She just disguised it very, _very_ well under a layer of nauseating kindness.

"His recurring Spotted Snake kept us from seeing that the whites of his eyes were really gray. There's also a mild…"

Mercedes seemed to hesitate for a second. Not wanting to offend the vampire?

Cute.

"Odor. Metallic. Consistent with Corpseblight. He probably still has a pulse…"

Mercedes seemed to be reaching unforeseen questions and conclusions as she spoke.

It was lovely to watch.

Almost enough to make her forget her own cold sweats, quivering hands and legs and the erratic beating of her heart. Come to think of it, those were all symptoms of both infatuation _and_ exhaustion slash low blood pressure.

Now she understood why fair maidens tended to swoon. They weren't in love, they just needed a bloody Chocolate Frog.

"I mean, his heart is probably still beating because of… well, for lack of a better word, _habit_. Supposedly it happens to newly turned vampires…?"

The patient nodded, flashing his fangs once more. He seemed to be enjoying this immensely, despite having been handed a pretty shitty diagnosis. None of the others seemed to realize it though.

"Why… why wouldn't it be on his chart though?"

Rory Mason shrugged and Rose's lips pursed ever so slightly.

Because while vampires were under the protection of paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans and her mother's Cabinet had taken largely promising strides in making sure they were accepted and had a better chance of integration into society… they were still vampires. And some people, like Alec Sauvage, were assholes.

That's why.

Mercedes seemed to realise it herself and she nodded.

"Very good, Miss Lewis. Objections Mr. Alec Sauvage?"

Choi apparently relished saying the bloke's full name. Alec shook his head, apparently rendered silent.

And for a while the world was slightly less annoying.

* * *

 **December 18th, 2027 - 21h10**

When their shift finally ended and she was dragging her sorry ass back to the courtyard for a smoke, Choi asked her to stay back a minute.

"What tipped you off?"

He didn't add 'this time', but it was implicit. To be fair she'd only guessed two so far.

"His medical history starts in '79. He supposedly had Shivers when he was young." She pointed at the number on the corner of the patient file. "A patient file initiated in '79 should be have an ID around… six hundred seventy, six hundred eighty thousand, give or take."

This one's id was instead comprised of seven apparently random digits, a number that would place him at the ripe old age of… nineteen.

The person in charge of the dummies really needed to up their game.

"Thank you, Miss Weasley. You can leave now."

No compliments, no dallying around, no making pointless conversation. It hadn't even been so much a permission as an order.

Some days she loved Choi.

"Sure."

She hesitated for a second.

Had #1293931 _really_ been a vampire?

But asking would have been too much energy that she wasn't willing to spend. Not to mention she wasn't keen on having Choi hate her. His rotations were the easiest she'd had all month. She _needed_ the break.

Instead Rose left and added not asking to the ever-growing list of things she regretted.

* * *

 **December 19th, 2027 - 02h30**

She'd been lucky.

She'd been lucky to notice the damned number.

She'd been lucky Binn had been asked before her.

How long would it take, do you suppose, for people to realize that was all it was? That her "talent" was made up of blind luck and a keen eye for irrelevant details?

Rose dragged herself home, too tired to Apparate, too tired to even Floo.

(Last time she'd tried she'd ended up popping up in a fireplace somewhere around Shropshire.)

It was dark out. Cold too. She was shivering convulsively, her teeth chattering. Rose wrapped her cloak closer to her small frame and powered through.

One step at a time, Rose. One step at a time.

She still needed to study when she got home. Why she bothered, she couldn't tell you. After all, in just two months time, when she failed all her exams, people would know she was a fraud. That she'd somehow spent the past three years deceiving them all into thinking she was competent and smart.

The house was thankfully quiet when she arrived. Were Malfoy and Al asleep already? She took off her shoes and tiptoed into the living room, rubbing her hands together for warmth. There was no light coming from the kitchen. None from their rooms either.

They'd left the living room light on for her, though. Rose felt her eyes prickling as she blinked the tears away.

It was good that they were asleep.

Albus had been a real pest lately, cornering her at work, showing up with stupid soup like she was a toddler who couldn't take care of herself.

Stupid Al. Stupid, lovely Al.

Malfoy... oh, Malfoy was a pest for an entirely different reason. He'd been in the foulest mood lately. It made him perfectly anal. She swore if the prat uttered the words "you," "have to" and "laundry" in the same sentence again she might strangle him.

Yes. It was good that they were asleep.

Good thing indeed.

Except the house felt... empty. Devoid of warmth. Quiet, eerily so. There was no comforting bickering, no laughter.

She felt desperately alone and small.

Why couldn't she have them around and be left the hell alone? Why couldn't they be content with being quirky, fun, noisy furniture?

Not for the first time, Rose wished she hadn't volunteered for that second shift. She might have slept some instead of doing four extra hours of Dangerous Bites. But Healer Ogden and his sour face had asked and she was eager to please. Eager to prove to herself and everyone else that she was indeed good.

And now she was here and the house was empty and she felt _alone_.

Her breath caught in her throat when her eyes met the endless stacks of paper on her table.

How was it that they did it? How was it that fucking Jesse Boot and stupid Penny Nicholson did it? How did they get home to _this_ and still they were up every single day, enthused about bloody jello and shelling out silly impressions?

How the hell was she supposed to do it?

And Rose gave herself the only answer she could.

One breath at a time.

One page at a time.

One chapter at a time and it would all work out.

Maybe tomorrow she'd quit.

Maybe she'd tell them all to shove it and come home, get some sleep. Maybe she'd eat a damed donut.

Maybe she'd pursue a career in Comparative Arithmancy.

And so she waded through the endless stacks and she kept lying to herself, saying this one push would be the last.


	12. Chapter 12

_You know the drill, **review** , **follow** , **favorite**._

 _So here's another chapter, courtesy of **JTiple** 's and **The Chirpy Bitch** 's fine proof reading!_

* * *

 **December 19th, 2027 - 15h15**

It was the little things that got to him.

At first the change had been almost imperceptible. He'd walked into his practice on Monday morning after the Magpies tryouts and noticed, not for the first time, that his locker door was slightly nicked on the corner.

It was the first time he'd been annoyed by it.

Then, when his salary had finally hit his account at Gringotts, he was annoyed by the fact that it was late, despite the fact that it had _always_ been late, even when Andrew Bell wasn't in charge.

After a few days, the passive annoyance had grown to open irritation. It simmered, growling and baring its ugly teeth.

He'd noticed, not for the first time, that Jordan was shamelessly favouring his left side and therefore missing mostly everything that came from his right in a dazzling display of utter incompetence.

However, it was the first time he'd purposefully gone out of his way to bombard the older Beater with right winged assaults.

After two weeks, as Christmas approached and the conversation with his parents loomed over his head, his anger was boiling, aimlessly spitting at his surroundings. Poisoning the world.

 _Everything_ was getting to him.

The way Elliot batted, always the same grunt when the bat connected with the Bludger.

The way Jordan flew, too cautiously, too practiced. No heart, no soul.

The way Elliot _chewed_ , mouth open, noisily.

The way Jordan fucking _breathed_.

On the plus side it was the most efficient his batting had ever been. On the pitch, he managed to channel the rage productively, active aggressively assaulting his team with volley after volley of mean spirited, petty and highly competent attacks.

But it spilled.

He screamed at the grocery store cashier for getting his change wrong.

He silently frothed when his breakfast order came with strawberry jam instead of raspberry jam.

He kicked up a fuss in his living room when the Floo queue to get to the Puddlemere stadium didn't budge.

He walked all the way there, cursing at the people who were unwary enough to not dodge out of his way.

His anger wasn't even abated when he realized the Floo had actually been down because a nice little old lady had gotten halfway stuck at her place.

No. It boiled.

The plan had been simple: out of the fireplace, into the living room and straight to his bedroom where he wouldn't need to deal with any other problems he couldn't control.

Except there was a minefield of carefully stacked piles of paper lining the floor. He looked to his left and there she was, the mother of all this chaos.

Rose Weasley.

Her little kingdom of disorder was usually limited to the round table on the right of the fireplace. Today however, she had apparently decided to branch out, explore uncharted territory. She had marked the new, foreign lands she'd conquered by placing her little neat piles of papers, with their neat little pink and orange and blue and green post-its… smack in the middle of the floor.

With a ten foot radius.

The piles had even climbed onto the couch in a few strategic spots.

Walk out of the fireplace, into the living room and straight to his bedroom. That had been the plan.

No plan survived Rose.

"Hey," she croaked, her voice hoarse and apologetic. She offered him a small, guilty smile. "I didn't expect you for another two hours. Sorry, I'll-"

The plan was definitely dead now.

"Why... is your _crap_... spread all over the place?"

"Calm down, Malfoy." She just shrugged, her hand flicking nervously toward the table top. "It increases my Accio speed."

His eyes followed her apparently dismissive motion and he realized she had been holding a half smoked cigarette, which she was now anxiously putting out on an ashtray that seemed to be almost half full.

"Are those _cigarettes?!_ "

It would indeed explain the smell. He'd stepped out of the fireplace, so he'd just assumed that Puddlemere's Floo needed a thorough cleaning but this… this was something else.

"Wonderfully observant of you. Yes. They are."

She seemed to have gone from apologetic to defiant. As if _daring_ him to say something. He bit his tongue and shook his head.

It wasn't his problem.

She could kill herself if she wanted to. She'd been doing a wonderful job of it so far, what with the not eating and not sleeping.

Why should he care?

"I thought so," she stated, almost patronizingly. "It's not really any of your business."

And there it was. The spark that set the world on fire.

He could feel his body reacting to it, preparing itself for a fight. His heart rate speeding, his blood pressure increasing.

"What is _wrong_ with you, you moron!"

"Whoa, Malfoy," she sputtered, leaning back on her chair. She almost looked amused. " _What_ did you just call me?"

"Are you aware of what smoking will do to you?!"

She _knew_. Of course she did.

"I'm a Healer-in-training," she nodded carelessly. As if it that made it perfectly normal to put one's health at risk as she constantly did. As if St. Mungo's endorsed her filthy little habit. "Why are you screaming?"

The correct answer to that would have been 'I don't know'. Instead, he lashed out, because, really, what else could he do? Stop?

Pfft.

"Because for once, just _once_ , I'd like to come home and just… _be_!"

"Then just... _be_!" She got up from her seat, and placed her wand on the bowl over the fireplace. "And stop yelling, you're giving me a headache."

She was moving slowly, her movements languorous. She crouched and started carefully picking up the stacks of paper. She was taking her sweet time, one stack at a time, apparently in a random order that had nothing to do with proximity or size. Once or twice she seemed to hesitate. Her hand reached out to a pile as if to grasp it in mid air and then she shook her head before finally grabbing it.

Why did she have to be so slow? She was twenty-one, not ninety, for Merlin's sake!

"I'm sorry," he said in petulant accents, taking a few steps in her direction. "But I can't even move without stepping all over your shit."

"It's my home too," she said, not even looking up. "And you can step on it if you want, I'm not about to stop you from living your life."

"And the smoking?" He dropped into a crouch and picked up a stack of papers and handed it to her, the compulsion to tidy too strong to resist. She shook her head and he placed it back where he'd found it, getting up to his feet. If she didn't want his help, well, she didn't want his help. " _Why_?"

"It's none of your business."

"It is entirely my business. It's _my_ home too and you're… you…" Scorpius stuttered, trying to find a way to catalogue this new piece of information in his head. Rose Weasley, The Smoker. "When did you even _start_ smoking?"

"When I started at St. Mungo's." There it was again, the shrug. "Again, none of your business."

"Why haven't I ever seen you-"

Or smelled it, really, the house _reeked_.

"Because it's none of your business." She looked up to meet his gaze, her own sunken eyes sparkling with a hint of disdain. "But if you must know, I use one of Uncle George's air fresheners. I just… I'm out. Need to get some more. Sorry."

He moved cautiously around the piles on parts of the ground she had vacated, like he was some sort of exotic dancer slash martial artist slash drunk butterfly.

"Oh, just use your wand," he groaned. "It'll take forever. Look at all this, I mean the pile just keeps growing. Doesn't it bother you?!"

He asked if it bothered _her_ when in reality all he wanted to do was to shout that it annoyed _him_.

"You never come home this early, Malfoy," she said in lieu of an explanation, getting up and placing a stack of papers on the table. She picked up her wand and started accioing the piles. "I'd have tidied it-"

"No, you wouldn't have!" He came home every day and it was only passably better. "Maybe you'd have hidden away your ashtray of shame-" He glared at the ashtray and was, once again, astounded. Rose Weasley, The Smoker. Who'd a thunk it? "How _many_ did you smoke?!"

"They mostly smoke themselves," she replied. What the hell did that even mean?!"And yes, I would have."

"Why the hell are you even here?" he growled under his breath.

"Beg your pardon, what?"

"You wanted a stupid office, we gave you your stupid office! Yet here you always are, with all your..." Scorpius hesitated for a second, trying to find an alternative for the word 'shit'. "With your _stuff_ spread all over the place! And now what, you're trying to give us cancer?"

"What, you object to me studying in my own living room now?!"

"No, I don't!" He did, in fact. But she was the asshole, not him. It would ruin his aesthetic for this argument if he just let his anger take over. "Except... you're _always_ studying! Always!"

"And?"

"And we always have to tiptoe around you!" Scorp threw his hand up in the air and gave one of the piles on the floor a nudge with his foot. "I can't have fucking people over because it would disturb you and your hostile takeover of the place!"

In truth, he didn't have people over because he didn't want to.

But he liked to think that if he did, she would be the reason he didn't bring anyone over.

"That's your choice, not mine," Rose barked, standing straight to meet his eye. "I never asked you to live your life differently just because I'm studying."

No, but one did, because unlike her, there were some people who believed in fucking respect.

"Of course you didn't but it stands to reason-"

"Listen Malfoy," she interrupted, all traces of amusement wiped away from her face. "I don't care if you fucking got rejected by the Magpies or whatever other problems you think you have going on in that charmed life of yours. But it gives you no right to be a _dick_ to me. I said I'm sorry. Move on."

"I wasn't rejected, and I'm not being a dick. I'm just voicing my complaints, like the fact that I just got home and all I wanted was to-"

"Ta ta ta," she interrupted, raising a hand. "Whatever _you're_ going through, it's not my fault. And you come in here-"

"Oh, come on Rose, are you kidding me? This is my home, it's supposed to be the place where I rest and it's always a goddamned mess!"

"If you're so keen on having things pristine, you can do it yourself."

"You'd kill me if I touched your notes and you _know_ it," he huffed, rolling his eyes. "And the hours, the fucking inane schedules you keep!"

"What's that have to do with anything?"

"It _bothers_ me!"

"Now you're going to tell _you're_ bothered with the all nighters _I_ have to fucking pull to actually have time to study?!" It did sound a little insane. "While _you're_ off in the land of dreams?"

Not to mention hypocritical.

"If you got some fucking sleep every once in a while you might actually _learn_ something when you study," he growled back, "instead of always looking like a fucking dazed martyr!"

"Are you done telling me how to live my life?"

"No, I'm not done-"

"You know what? Fine," she hissed, moving toward the table and haphazardly stacking up her books. "Fine."

"Where the hell are you going?"

"To my study," she said, starting to pick up the piles on the floor, slamming them angrily on top of each other, this time not bothering with whatever order they were supposed to have. "You can be a real asshole sometimes."

He was possessed by a burning desire to make her fall off her high horse.

"Well guess what, you're no fucking walk in the park either! You and your slimy disgusting hair on the bottom of the shower drain that you _never_ remove and that I need to deal with every single morning!"

"Malfoy, you could've just told me and I'd have-"

But he was on a roll now. An ugly, spiralling roll of pent up aggression at tiny things that really hadn't mattered until a few seconds ago and that he was now willing to rub in her face for all they were worth.

"Not to mention the fact that you _never_ do your dishes, you're _never_ around when we're cleaning the place and that your laundry pile is the size of fucking Gringotts!"

"The fact that I don't have the time to actually do laundry because I'm trying to _survive_ bothers _you_?!" Rose shook her head. "Shit, Malfoy, I knew you were an entitled fucker but you really don't care about anyone but yourself."

"Guess what Rose, welcome to adulthood!" He laughed. A hard laugh. He could scarcely recognize it. "People _are_ selfish! People are tired! People do their fucking laundry! This is what it's like, keep up!"

"Malfoy…"

She got up and eyed him carefully. As if she wasn't sure how to react.

If he was being honest, neither did he.

"What, you think Jesse Boot doesn't do his laundry just because he's fucking _tired_?!"

"Malfoy, I-"

"Maybe if you weren't an overachieving cunt, you'd have the time to sleep!"

Shit, he'd said it. After eleven years of silently thinking it.

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"The hell I will! You drag yourself around the place looking like you're a fucking virgin sacrifice and why?!"

"Malfoy," she growled in a tone that would have been threatening if she hadn't been, what, five foot three? "Shut the hell up."

"Because you're too _proud_ to have anything other than an Outstanding!"

She dropped the pile of papers she had been amassing on the floor, papers fluttering wildly, and took a few steps in his direction, fists clenched to her sides.

"Malfoy, if you don't shut the hell up this instant I'll-"

"What? Hex me?" he growled, perfectly aware that the two only possible outcomes of this were either getting his balls kicked or a nasty Bat Bogey. She didn't look like she was in the mood to just fully body bind him. "Adult people talk, adult people don't _hex_ each other when things don't go their fucking way!"

"You want to talk? Fine, let's talk." She threw her wand onto the couch and took a few steps closer to him until she was just a few inches away. Her breath reeked of smoke. "Let's talk about how you're a pedantic, _entitled_ , little spoiled brat who-"

How dare she?

"Pedantic?! Spoiled? I work my _ass_ off everyday for what I have, you asshole!"

"Oh you do, do you? With absolutely no help at all? You have this cushy _dream_ job at a Quidditch Team that, for all we know, your daddy probably got for you. And now you're feeling, _what_ , frustrated that-"

Scorpius could feel his blood boiling at her words.

"- and you take it out on me when all I was doing was minding my own fucking business!"

How _dare_ she?

"You can't say shit like that!"

Bringing up their parents in arguments had always been hallowed grounds. It was just something they didn't do, something they'd instinctively known not to do from the moment they'd met.

And here she was, piercing the veil. Shredding it, really.

"Can't I now?" She sniggered. "I think I just did."

"What it _wrong_ with you?"

"You want to know what's _wrong_ with me?!"

" _Yes_ ," Scorpius sputtered, "please explain to me why your life is so very _difficult_."

"Fine." She glared back at him gritting her teeth. "Officially I haven't slept in about thirty seven hours. Seventy six if we count the insomnia."

It was as if someone had just poured a bucket of cold water over his head.

"I have classes for eight hours every day and then clinic rotations for at least another eight. Then studying. On top of all that, you insensitive _prick_ , today I got word that one of the patients I was caring for died. We're going to be opening her up tomorrow."

 _Shit_.

"Weasley, I'm so-"

His hand reached out to her instinctively but she smacked it away as she brushed past him toward the table.

"I got thrown up on three times today. Maybe four, I'm not entirely sure when 'today' started." Her head rose to her forehead to wipe a bead of glistening sweat. "It took me thirteen tries before I actually stuck a needle correctly into someone's arm yesterday and I got _yelled_ at."

"Rose, I'm-"

"Don't you fucking _dare_ interrupt me," she snarled. She wasn't shouting anymore. Her voice had dwindled to almost a whisper, like she was talking more to herself than to him. "On top of all that, I have my two big exams of the semester in less than a month. And then _you_ come home and give me _shit_? Because you're in what, a _bad mood_?"

And now she was shouting again.

"I _smoke_ ," she raged, taking a few steps toward the table, shakily picking up the ashtray and flinging it against the wall, ash and soot rising in a cloud, "because it calms me the hell down!"

"You don't need to-"

"What I need?! You don't have the slightest clue of what I need or don't need. You seem to be under the impression that you know me!" She laughed almost hysterically, throwing her arms up in frustration. "Well, you _don't_!"

"Listen, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I-"

Goddamnit.

" _That's_ what's wrong with me."

"Weasley, I-"

"Is that what you wanted to hear?! That I don't have my shit together _at all_?" She poked his chest once with surprising strength and then backed away slowly, a feverish grin on her face as if she was _relieved_. "Does it live up to your expectations?"

"Okay, Rose, listen, I'm sorry, you could have just told me. I'd have-"

"I shouldn't _need_ to tell you. From now on I'm fucking not telling you anything. Congratulations, I'm not talking to you." She headed toward the study door and flung it open. It slammed against the wall on the other side. "So shut up."

She stomped over to the couch to get her wand and started floating her things into the study with a look of grim determination. Like a sad procession of books and papers grieving for their owner.

Scorpius swallowed.

"Listen, Rose, I'm really sorry, I've-"

"Did I stutter?" Her levitating spell quivered just a little. "Shut up. Or I'll hex you, like the immature _cunt_ that I am."

The anger had left him cold and out to dry, with a multitude of problems on top of the ones he couldn't control. And this one was entirely of his making.

"Look, I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have called you that. I've been really worried about a few things and-"

"Do I look like I care? No. We're not friends you and I," she gestured madly between the two of them with her wand and a few of the floating items clattered to the ground. She chuckled bitterly. "You made that abundantly clear."

"Of course we're friends," he argued, surprising himself. It sounded shallow, now that he'd pissed the bed and set fire to the curtains. "After a sort."

If they were friends then he was a _shitty_ friend.

"Friends are supposed to help each other out," she hissed back, following the tail end of her floating books. She lowered her wand with a swish and they crashed to the ground. She looked exhausted. "I'll do my laundry, I'll take the stupid hair from the drain. I'll stop studying in the living room." She grabbed the door and shook her head. "And maybe, just _maybe_ we'll never fucking need to talk to each other again."

And then she slammed the door in his face. And he was left on the other side, feeling like a complete and utter _dick_.

Shit.

She'd come around, right? It was one of her best qualities, her ability to never stay mad too long. She raged, she fumed, she hexed people and then she regretted it. It was her MO.

She'd come back and apologise and he'd apologise and it'd be a lovely 'I'm sorry' fest.

It'd be fine.


	13. Chapter 13

_And here we go again - it's been 5 months and WS is back! Chapter's long (longest yet, whoa) and dramatic and all that fanfic goodness! Let me know what you think in the review section!_

 _As always, thank you_

 ** _ChirpyBitch_** _for beta-ing and keeping me on track_ _!_

* * *

 **December 19th, 2027 - 19h10**

He waited.

He waited some more.

Except the door didn't open and Rose didn't come back. She didn't apologise. He didn't apologise. There was no 'I'm sorry' fest for anyone.

And all was not fine.

He kept replaying the conversation, nay, fight in his mind with growing horror. She'd been surprisingly calm throughout and he'd been… unforgivable.

Sure his complaints had been sound. But he'd been a complete and utter prick about them. How could he have known that-

A door opened.

(No, not that door. The other door. The front door.)

Through it walked a bundled up Albus Potter, his lithe frame completely lost under the winter clothes that he chose to adorn in the cold season.

Fuss pot.

"I come bearing gifts!"

He was carrying colorful bags of all shapes and sizes which he promptly dropped on the ground. Overcoat, scarf, coat and mittens followed. Free from his warm prison, Al plopped down on the couch and struggled to remove his boots.

"I can see that," Scorp replied slowly. "Good shopping?"

"What, no snide rejoinder?" Al had finally managed to get one of his boots off and threw it half-heartedly at him. "No snappy comeback about how the holidays are merely a time of familial obligation and despair conjured up by people to force their unwilling spawn to spend time with them?"

Silence.

"No, we're good."

Their eyes met for a second, Al's full of laughter and his… well, probably there were some hints to the stress he was feeling in his. Five hours ago he'd been panicking. It had abated slightly and given place to a resigned feeling of "I done goofed".

His eyes kept wandering to the door of the study. Rose coming out right now and telling Al all about what a complete and utter tosser he was would be truly inconvenient, especially considering how much he didn't have a plan for that.

"What is wrong with you?!" Al quipped throwing the second of his boots in his general direction. "I swear I want to shake you! You've been intolerable for days and now you're barely responsive. Did a Bludger hit you in the kisser?"

"I'm…" He felt himself stuttering. "Well I'm fine, I'm much better thanks, all is good."

Merlin, he was going to be homeless.

"You're what?" Al's eyebrows rose and he took a step back to examine the room. "Where are Rose's things?"

"I…"

"You're very loquacious today aren't you?

Smooth.

"Where's Rose? Is she in—"Al's tone went from jesting to concerned as he noticed the hole in the wall where the ashtray had hit and the subsequent mess on the carpet under it. "What is that?"

"Oh that… it's… er…"

"What the fuck happened? Scorp?"

"Well, Rose and I got into a bit of a fight."

"If I had a knut," Albus chuckled, but his tone was sharp. "So what?"

"Words… were said."

"Both of you are very verbose when angry, I'm hardly surprised," Albus retorted, perusing the hole in the wall with interest. "What words?"

"Ones I… regret…?"

"Stop being a wuss, Malfoy and give it to me straight," Al scolded, turning towards him. "You're always fighting, why do you look like you've broken your mum's most expensive vase?"

"I called her a cunt alright?" Scorp's eyes met Al's and he winced. "I told her she was a martyr and that she needed to sleep and do laundry and half a dozen other insane things that don't sound so awful told out of context but—"

"Oh no, they do sound awful, even out of context," Al retorted, sitting on the arm of the couch and glowering at him. "I'm genuinely torn, I don't know if I should hurt you or comfort you… probably both. Has she apologised yet?"

"No, she's holed up in her study and hasn't resurfaced since."

"You're telling me this happened more than an hour ago and she hasn't come crawling out begging your forgiveness?"

Quite.

"She's been there for an awful long time. Maybe she fell and hit her head or hurt herself or—"

"Nah, if she were hurt the spellwork on the room would kick up a fuss and spit her out. So, I'm assuming this was your fault ?"

There was a pregnant pause.

"Yes…?"

"No!" gasped Albus, lifting a hand to his breast in mock awe. He sat back down on the couch, his legs swaying back and forth. "Didn't she completely overreact?"

"Well, yes, she always does. This time I started it."

"Well, you always do. You need to apologise."

"No shit."

Their eyes met and Al's face was a testament of amusement and pity.

Al took a few steps and walked toward the door of the study and stopped. He eyed it critically, taking its mental measure.

Scorp just stood next to him, eyes darting from the door to his friend. Al flicked his wand a few times, muttered some gibberish under his breath and, for a few seconds, an intricate web of shimmering strands of all colors shone in the five feet surrounding the door. Al looked over at them, frowning and then they faded.

"We can't go in," Albus finally said, shrugging airily. "I set up this really sophisticated soundproof vault thing for her." He flicked his wand in the air and a shimmering green strand shone. "It's attuned to her blood. Even I can't break it." He pulled at it for a second, giving it a good hard tug and it flickered with static. "For one I'm glad she's getting to use it. She truly wasn't allowing this masterpiece to live up to its full potential."

Al kept poking and prodding at the strands with the proud look a parent gives their child.

"What then?"

"Well, I haven't the slightest of what you're going to do," Al replied grinning and spinning on his heels, taking a few steps toward the pile of bags he'd dropped by the door. "I'm going to tidy my gifts, shower, go out far, far away to dinner and then maybe work on some spells at Yardley's."

Disappointment washed over him. After the initial fear that Albus might overreact, he'd hoped he'd stick around.

Maybe even help him out?

But Albus was already picking his bags and walking towards his room, dashing Scorpius' hopes.

"What about—" he protested. "What about me?!"

"You, my inconsequential, boneheaded cockroach, are going to sit on that bloody couch and pray that she comes out in the next few hours." Al sniggered to himself. "And then you can grovel and beg at her feet." Al gave him a once over and nodded, as if assuring himself it was the right call. "And you better hope that she may find it in her heart to forgive you. You two really need to sort out your issues."

"Well, but she also said some really horrible shit," Scorp replied petulantly. "She-"

"You know as well as I do, if this were her fault she'd have been out here herself five minutes after it happened, grovelling at your feet," Al retorted, his usually even voice rising. "Since she hasn't, this one's on you."

"What if—"

"She doesn't forgive you? My, my, ye of little faith." Al gave his face a friendly slap - perhaps with a bit too much force. "See here, if she doesn't forgive you, I'm going to have to assume that whatever you said to her was unforgivable. If that's the case, I may or may not feel compelled to mess you up."

Damn.

"You can't be serious!"

"It's fifty-fifty right now." Al shrugged. "You see, if the roles were reversed, I couldn't do anything of the sort because, well, Rose isn't exactly the most able-bodied person and if I did anything to her she'd just break into a million pieces and die," Al replied, glancing significantly at the door of the study. "You on the other hand, can probably take a beating."

"Who are you kidding," Scorpius snickered. "I'd kick your ass in a fight."

"Who said anything about a fight?" There was something about Albus' smile that made Scorp's blood curdle in his veins. He twiddled his wand between his fingers with an ease that would make any Olympic rhythmic dancer jealous. "I have a plethora of really nasty hexes I've been dying to try out on a living human so it's a win-win in my book. One of them _theoretically_ reverses the direction of your digestive system, I'm quite pleased with it."

There were the legal considerations of course. There were the social norms to uphold. There was a myriad of rules that assured him that no, it was absurd, of course Al couldn't...

Looking at Al's face though, he wasn't entirely sure those were in play anymore. If Rose came out this instant, crying, he wouldn't be surprised to find himself in a full body bind again or something far nastier.

Al wasn't someone you'd like to meet in a shady alley.

"I could probably take you." Who was he kidding really? If it came to fisticuffs, Scorp could and would probably beat him up. In a wand fight… well. "Al, I genuinely don't know if you're serious or not right now and it's freaking me out a little."

"It's best if you don't," was the cryptic answer, a large smile on the Potter Spawn's face. "Now run along and make nice. Offer to do her laundry or dishes whatever. It's the sort of thing she hates doing. You on the other hand, are the biggest nerd for fabric softening spells I've ever met."

"You think she'll come out still mad?"

"Nah. Rose has a lot of flaws, but she really doesn't know how to hold a grudge." Al said calmly before smacking him with the left hand side of the multitude of parcels he had started levitating. "Just don't be an asshole again and you'll be fine. And maybe do something about the living room, this place reeks of cigarettes."

"Those are hers," Scorp whined, clearly hoping for some quorum. "Did you know she's—"

"Smoking? Yeah, of course I do." Albus shook his head as if it were obvious. "That's how I know she's really stressed."

Well, he didn't get a quorum.

"How could I have known?"

"I bloody well told you about it a few days ago, but you were so angry at something else you didn't hear a word I was saying." Al at this point was just hanging out by the doorframe of his room. "By the way, are you not being an asshole anymore? Or do we need to talk about that as well?"

"I wasn't being—"

"You were being an insufferable, punk ass little whiny asswipe. That in turn got into a collision course with my cousin's out-of-control freight train of anxiety and resulted in this messed up situation, which I'm not getting into."

"But-" Scorpius tried to protest, but Albus would have none of it.

"Buh buh buh buh! You're adults, act like it," he scolded and there was the sound of bags dropping from his room. "Now, I'm going to shower and then I'm leaving. Fix it, will you?"

"You traitor."

"Fix it."

And then his door closed and Scorpius wondered if this was all his day was going to be like: staring at closed doors and wondering how the hell he was supposed to "be a grown up" and "fix it".

* * *

 **December 20th, 2027 - 03h50**

When the door finally opened and Rose emerged from her study, the house was eerily quiet. From the couch stirred the sleeping figure of Scorpius Malfoy, blanket over his legs and an open magazine sprawled across his lap.

She took one good look at him and snickered, her snub nose held high.

Asshole.

"Rose—?"

"Sod off."

She could hear him scrambling after her and it gave her no end of joy to hear the magazine and then the lamp falling to the floor, then a curse as he hit the inconveniently placed coffee table with his knee.

Rose couldn't see what was happening behind her since she was far too busy giving him the cold shoulder. Nonetheless, just the mental picture of Scorpius still half-asleep tripping all over himself was quite energising.

For that matter, so had been that power nap she'd been able to snag in the past hours. She wasn't proud to admit it, but after he'd managed to drive her to absolute hysterics, she'd been driven to an embarrassingly effeminate crying fit which had lasted until she'd collapsed from utter exhaustion.

Sometimes all a girl needed was a good cry and a nap. In a way, she probably should be thanking Malfoy: it was the best sleep she'd had in months.

"Rose." He caught up with her in the middle of the corridor and tried to place himself in front of her, arms wide open, blocking the passage to the kitchen. "Listen, I need to—"

"No thanks," she interrupted, genially dodging him and walking past him. "I don't need anything from you."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

She turned round to face him. Her gaze wandered up and down, taking him in: dishevelled hair, sunken eyes and nervous twitches of someone who'd had a very shitty night's sleep. He looked quite miserable.

Good.

"Like I said, I don't need anything from you," she replied breezily, turning around and sashaying to the bathroom. "So you can take that apology and shove it."

Man, she felt good. She took a few steps toward the laundry basket and peered inside. Now all she needed was a shower and a fresh pair of—

Where was it?

"Where's my laundry?"

Not just hers, where was the laundry? All of it? She'd been hoarding it like gold for the past few weeks. The basket had been overflowing the last time she'd tossed a batch in.

And now here she was, staring at a laundry basket that was empty, with not a damned, solitary sock in it.

Maybe Al had moved it to the kitchen.

She walked out of the bathroom, crashing straight into Scorpius. "Oh, Merlin, will you stop following me around?"

Just a pair of underwear, was that too much to ask? She wasn't proud to admit it, but it had gotten to the point where she'd actually bought new underwear from the shop at St. Mungo's just so she wouldn't have to do said laundry.

Now however, she was feeling rather refreshed. She could probably squeeze a cleaning spell out of herself.

However when she walked into the kitchen and peered into the second laundry basket, it was empty as well. "What the-"

There was a pointed cough coming from the door.

"Where are all my clothes?"

She looked over at Scorpius who was leaning against the doorframe which, she realised now, was something he did all the time, complete with a smug look and a fuck all attitude.

The kicker, however? There was no smug look and no fuck all attitude.

"I washed them."

He sounded… humbled, like the permanent arrogant stick had been removed from his tuchus.

She must be hearing wrong.

"You what?"

"I took care of your laundry," he yawned, covering his mouth and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's in your room."

Was she dreaming? She must still be asleep, because this was the sort of thing she wished she dreamed about.

So many questions unanswered: had he seen her delicates? Had he touched them?

Kill her now.

"You…"

"Did your laundry, yes," he replied slowly. "It's somewhat folded, though not brilliantly. You had like three months worth."

Shock of shocks, he didn't sound like he was rubbing it in.

"I was going to say 'went into my room' and "saw my underwear' but…"

"Yep." He sighed and dragged himself into the kitchen, before pulling out two mugs from one of the cabinets. "Tea?"

What on earth was going on?

"Why..." she stuttered, words failing her. "But why?"

"Tea or no tea?"

The very notion of Scorpius Malfoy doing her laundry was bizarre at least, but the thought of him folding it neatly afterwards…?

It was ludicrous.

And now he was offering her tea?!

"Yes, tea," she replied almost automatically, still shocked. She pulled out a chair and sat on it. Maybe if she didn't move things might start to make sense. "Why did you do my laundry?"

She watched the new and improved Scorpius, the same one who'd called a 'cunt' a few hours ago, put a kettle on the stove and pull up a chair next to her.

"Al suggested it," he offered in lieu of an explanation, before yawning again. "I thought it was stupid at first but then I was just waiting around for you to come out, doing nothing, so I figured what the hell."

"So you did my laundry."

"Yep." He half-heartedly opened his arms and waved them to the laundry basket in a half-hearted 'tada'. He examined her warily for a second before adding: "You don't look mad at me."

He said it matter of factly and her eyes met the worried face of the boy who apparently had been sitting outside her study for the past ten hours.

For a fraction of a second, her heart went out to him.

"I'm not."

She should be milking this for all it was worth. However sitting here in the quiet, dark hours of the night, everything felt… less. Less dramatic, less scream worthy.

"You should be." His tone was quiet. "I was an absolute and utter ass."

"I know."

"I'm really sorry."

"I figured." Her eyes met his and she offered him a small smile. "Where is Al? He asleep?"

"Came in a few hours ago," Scorp replied, rolling his eyes. He got up and walked to the stove, pouring hot water into the two cups. "Told me to fix it and then left."

"Oh," she murmured. "That sounds about right."

"He's at Yardley's. I'm supposed to message when I'm done grovelling," he snorted, critically surveying the tea bags in a box. He looked up at her expectantly. "Am I grovelling enough?"

"Not really, but I'm in a good mood so I'll let it slide. I actually got some sleep in me."

"Oh."

"Yeah." This was surprisingly civil. She'd genuinely expected him to be an ass about it. Maybe even hold a grudge for a few months. "I'm sorry too."

"This one's on me. I picked a fight and we both said some really stupid shit." He paused and looked over at her, mug hovering close to him. "Sugar?"

"No." He floated the mug over to her and she grabbed it by the handle. He picked his as well and she eyed him with amusement. "You really did my laundry?"

"I did." He took a few steps closer and pulled a chair next to her. "I don't mind it, really."

"You don't?" Now she didn't know what was odder, the fact that Scorpius Malfoy knew how to apologise or the fact that laundry was his jam. "Just to be clear, we are talking about laundry? The damned sorting and washing and drying and-"

"Just…" He interrupted her, holding out a hand. "Do you mind doing taxes, paying the bills, walking through bureaucratic hell holes and filling paperwork?"

"No…?" She looked over at him and narrowed her eyes. There was no possible comparison between the two. "But it's different, paperwork is…"

"Dull, time consuming and a nightmare to get through. But you don't mind," he pointed out. "I don't mind doing laundry. Or cooking. Or doing the dishes."

She took a look around her. There was a tray of forgotten cupcakes on the corner. The kitchen was spotless, she could practically see her reflection on the cupboards.

"You cleaned?"

"Yeah. I do it a lot, I just haven't been doing it because I thought that was a you problem. Like something everyone's supposed to do and we share it in a rotative schedule or whatever, like normal people."

"You thought?" She couldn't believe it. "Isn't it?"

"I had some time on my hands to think and upon further consideration, no, it isn't," he replied, shrugging. "It's really an us problem."

"I don't-" She struggled for words. "What does that even mean?"

"You do taxes and paperwork and that other horrid, boring adult stuff you do. Albus sets up alarms and fixes things and unclogs the fireplace." He paused and shrugged. "I am apparently the maid. There's no thirds of anything."

She choked on her tea. It went everywhere, leaking from her nose, her mouth and onto the blond fellow in front of her.

"Get over it." He didn't even flinch, just picked up one, then two, then five napkins from the napkin holder and tossed them at her. "You two idiots can't keep up with basic cleanliness standards. I had high hopes at first but now I don't anymore. If anything's going to get done around here, I'll probably be the one doing it."

She dabbed her tea soaked face and shirt and eyed him for a wary second that turned into two and then ten.

He looked dead serious.

"You're saying you'll do my laundry?" Now would be the time to laugh your ass off, Malfoy. "And dishes?"

"Yeah."

"Why?!"

"Because you won't." He looked over at her critically and picked another napkin. "And it drives me nuts. Today is the first time I've walked into this kitchen and haven't felt the need to stab you with an unwashed butter knife." He dabbed the side of her face with it and pulled back, examining his handiwork. "There."

It was the gentlest Scorpius Malfoy had ever been to her.

"It won't last." For the second time today she could feel the tears prickling at her eyes. "You'll hate me for it."

She blinked decidedly and willed the tears away.

"Well, we'll just have to see."

"It's my slack you're picking. I should be adulting too!"

"It's the collective slack. Al also despises doing dishes. I'll possibly regret it... But it's unlikely. Cleaning is rather therapeutic."

It certainly looked like it. He looked much steadier than he had in weeks, calm even.

They sat quietly for a while as the new information sank in. Every once in awhile she glanced over at him and met the same concerned look, the one that told him he was afraid… of something. Maybe that she'd go postal on him.

He didn't seem to be inclined to talk anytime soon and the quiet was becoming unbearable. With every second she felt a growing urge to break it, to talk, to say something, anything.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Not really. I was scared I wouldn't hear you when you got out."

"Could've waited till tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow." He was silent for a second and then admitted: "Plus Al threatened to kick my ass."

"You could take him, easy."

"Not if he had a wand I couldn't."

"Nope," she chuckled. "Did he threaten to hex you? Was he serious?"

"Probably."

"Then yeah, he'd trash you."

The awkward silence returned and Rose had to control herself not to break it. Let him do some of the heavy lifting.

After a minute or so of quietly sipping his tea, he broke the silence: "I was worried about you." He sounded so much like a little boy, it was endearing in a way. Not a hint of the smug asshole she knew and… well. "You said you'd never talk to me again."

"The logistics of that would have been absurd. And I said a lot of things I didn't mean." She looked over at him in earnest. "I didn't mean that part about your job, by the way. I don't believe any of that."

"I know, but it's still good to hear," he retorted, getting up and leaning back against the countertop to face her, his cattish manner slightly returned. She could almost hear his internal engine turning tea into energy. "You really think we aren't friends?"

"I had honestly never thought about it before," she admitted. His face fell and she felt like she'd just kicked a puppy. "Do you think we're friends?"

"I did but now I'm not so sure."

Damn, she had indeed kicked a puppy.

"Just because I never thought about it doesn't mean-" She got up and walked over to him, propping herself up to sit next to him. "I mean, we fought and we're here. I don't hate you."

"It was one hell of a fight," he pointed out. "I've never had anyone throw an ashtray at me before."

"I wasn't aiming at you."

"Next time you should," he sniggered. "I'd be safer that way,"

"Asswipe."

"You have a horrible, horrible aim."

She smacked his arm and he placed his mug of tea on the counter for safety before turning back to face her, a frown on his face.

"I thought this would be easier, you know?" he mused, looking over at her for confirmation.

"What?"

"The three of us living together," he replied, sighing. "In my mind you'd just be perfection incarnate, doing your dishes and we'd hardly ever see each other and instead..."

Ouch.

That had actually hurt. I mean, she'd thought the same before they moved. It was what she had wanted, right? Never to see them. Hearing it out in the open though, she felt...

"No, no, don't-" He seemed to catch onto the look on her face and quickly corrected himself. "I don't mean it like that."

She still felt betrayed.

"What's it like then?" she argued. All of her was like ruffled feathers, poofy and ready to pounce. "You thought you wouldn't have to put up with me at all but now you're stuck with it so, hey, better make the most of it?"

Merlin, so betrayed.

"Rose just-" He sighed and sat down next to her on the counter. "Not today, not again, just… hear me out."

"Fine." She moved a foot further away from him and eyed him defiantly. "But you better make it-"

"Look, I like living with you," he said simply, cutting her sentence in half. It had an instant effect of shutting her the hell up. "I never thought I'd have to actually say it out loud, but apparently I do because you're under some impression that-"

"Hey, you were the one who said you expected me to be lil' Miss Perfection," she huffed. "I expected you to be more of a-"

"Prat? Yeah." He stepped down from the counter and stood next to her. He was close, probably too close. "You probably thought I'd be different and that Al would be different too. Doesn't mean I'd trade you for that imaginary Rose that I'd never get a chance to see, or the bloody dishes she'd wash."

"The Perfection Incarnate Rose?"

"You're fine," he replied with a tone of finality that made her swoon a little. "Wouldn't trade you for that old bore in a million years."

"Really?" So now she was just fishing for compliments. She looked up at him and he simply nodded. "Never?"

"You're stuck with me for good," he assured her before picking up both their mugs and placing them in the sink. "Or at least until Al gets married to his next great love and kicks us out."

"Might take a while."

Now that he wasn't probably too close anymore, she wished he'd just come back.

"It might."

He did just so, closing the distance and leaning back on the counter next to her until their heads were level.

"Better make the most of it then."

They both grinned and looked away. Rose was acutely aware of the single point of contact between their bodies, that one inch or so of his arm that was touching hers. For a second all was fine with the world… and then he yawned.

"You need to go to sleep, don't you?" There was a slight tone of reproach that she hadn't meant to let seep into her words. "I mean… aren't you exhausted?"

She realised she didn't want him to go, not yet.

If he left, she'd have to pick herself up and go shower and study and a multitude of other unpleasantness she didn't want to deal with. Not today. She'd missed a shift already with the napping and she felt like delaying the inevitable confrontation for as long as she could. She'd accidentally managed to carve a bit of time for herself and now… well, now she didn't want to go back.

Plus... this was nice.

"I am," he admitted and shifted slightly. "But if we're going to live together we need to talk."

It was… comforting. Not like Albus was comforting, it was somehow... different.

"We do."

She looked over at him and, against her better judgement shifted closer to him.

"I can't guess what's happening in that messed up head of yours," he added, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a friendly squeeze. "You'll need to tell me when something's wrong."

"Same goes for you," she sniffed, throwing him a glare. "If you bloody get home and bite my head off for no apparent reason..."

"I know," he admitted, removing his arm. "We need to talk more, period."

"Well, we talk about Al but-"

"It's not the same," he replied, shaking his head. "I have no idea what's happening in your life. I didn't even know you smoked." He eyed her reproachfully. "Filthy habit by the way."

"Hey!" she protested. "This is why I didn't do it in front of you, I knew you'd be a pill about it."

"I'm just a concerned friend," he shrugged and grinned impishly. "It's going to be hell to quit."

No shit.

"I know, I do it every once in a while." she assented. "Be warned that there'll be about three weeks mid February where it won't be safe to breathe close to me."

In a fit of bravery she didn't know she had, Rose tucked her hand into his arm and let it rest there, fingers tugging lightly at his sleeve. His arm stiffened and she held her breath as he looked over at her, eyebrow raised.

Maybe that was the wrong thing to do?

Gingerly, she started to pull away, withdrawing the offending fingers. Before she could, his free hand found its way to the top of hers and held it in place for a second before letting go.

He pointedly looked away, but she could see him smiling.

"I probably won't be able to tell the difference, that just sounds like the normal you."

"So do we have to be nice to each other from now on?" she asked tentatively, giving his arm a small tug. Giving the physical contact a test drive, if you will. "No more sass ever again?"

"Merlin no," he chuckled throatily. "I'm just tired. We'll go back to being awful to each other in no time."

"I like this though," she admitted, scooting closer to him. Just because he was warmer than she was. "It's nice."

"Yeah. It is."

"Why were you in such a foul mood anyway?"

"I need to have a really unpleasant conversation over at my parents for Christmas," he admitted. "The yelling and apologies kind of threw a bucket of cold water over it though."

She could have sworn he inched closer. For warmth, obviously.

"Glad to be of assistance," she retorted. "If you're having a hissy fit in February we'll deal just fine."

There was a pause as she waited for him to continue but he remained stubbornly quiet. It was probably a sign to stop talking but she was going to push it.

"What's the chat about?"

Who knew when they'd have another moment like this?

"Al didn't tell you about it?" He glanced over at her and grinned. "I thought you two were Siamese twins who shared a brain."

"Like you two don't tell each other everything," she snorted. "I'm sure you know far too much I didn't want you to know."

"Oh yes, I have buckets of dirt on you," he retorted, snorting disdainfully. "Like you don't know everything about me." She didn't, which let her to think that maybe, just maybe, Al wasn't tattling as much as either of them thought he was. "You remember the Montrose Magpies?"

"Yep. He told me you got it. Didn't tell me why that was a problem," she answered with a slight frown. "Does your Dad hate the Montrose Magpies or something?"

"It's… complicated. I don't even know what I'm going to say," he sighed, turning to face her. "It might take a while. Don't you need to go study or whatever it is you do in the wee hours of the morning?"

"Tell me," she replied, adjusting her ass on the counter. She was horribly uncomfortable, but she'd be damned if she was moving anywhere or letting go of the surprisingly comfortable arm she was holding. "I've already missed a shift at the hospital and after all the commotion, I think I'm done for the day."

Just one day. A few more hours of not worrying, one day of not studying, one day of just… being.

Surely, she could do that.

"You're going to skip work and classes to... hang out with me?"

Always the tone of surprise.

"Unless…" Please say no. "You probably need some sleep." Please say no. "Aren't you tired?"

Please say no.

"Yeah… but I'll be fine," he said and she sighed with relief. The free hand went back to softly pat hers, and he grinned. "After all, if you can play hooky so can I."


	14. Chapter 14

_Here we go again, another chapter in the slow burning hell that I'm writing! Thank the **ChirpyBitch**_ _for beta-ing once again though surprisingly there was no need to flog me for this one to happen. Drop me a review in the comments section and let me know what you think!_

* * *

 **December 24th, 2027 - 10h00**

" _Malfoy Manor."_

Green flames crackled for a brief second. Dragon scaled, polished shoes stepped out of the fireplace.

There he was, a man with a mission. Unstoppable, unwavering, endlessly reciting the small yet confident monologue he'd come up with.

"What the-"

Before he even knew what was happening, he felt himself being pushed backwards, falling ass first and then on his back. Two hundred pounds of hellhound flesh and fur landed square on his chest, knocking the wind straight out of him.

The heir to the Malfoy estate let out a series of expletives most unbecoming of the sacred halls of his ancestral home, unwavering mission entirely forgotten.

 _Shit._

"Damn it, Pesto," he scolded, trying his best to imbue his voice with a semblance of authority, which was no meagre task considering how much he was shaking. His voice came out choked and the evil-looking, clawed toes, only dug harder into his ribcage.

He didn't feel very much like an authority. Pesto certainly didn't seem to believe he possessed anything of the sort.

Discomfort, he had in spades though. No matter how many times he got reacquainted with Pesto, the cold sweat, the discomfort, the fear creeping down his spine never really got better.

"Get the hell off of me."

Ha. Hell.

He could feel the hot, warm breath on his face, heavy droplets of drool falling on his cheek. He could see the bared teeth close to his eye, feel the baleful snarling on the back of the gigantic beast's throat.

He _knew_ Pesto wouldn't hurt him. _Knew_ it for a fact.

Knowledge, however, had a way of being chucked out the window when you were pounced on by an abomination straight from hell. Wilful self preservation then tended to kick in.

That same wilful self preservation told him to get the hell away and run for the hills.

He tried his best to reign it in. Tried his best to forget that if the hound wanted to, it could quite easily have already ripped him to shreds thinner than the bacon he'd had for breakfast that morning.

He was starting to feel that said breakfast might not stay in his stomach a lot longer now.

Breathe Malfoy, _breathe_.

This had happened before. It was nothing new. He would be fine.

"Pesto, I'm not going to say this again-"

The growling grew in intensity, evil red eyes meeting his. He could've sworn the damned snooty dog looked condescending. That's what you get when you adopt Hellhounds. You get patronizing monsters that can tear you from limb to limb if they wake up on the wrong side of the doghouse.

Even Yardley's doorman could have learned a thing or two from Pesto.

The thought of struggling crossed his mind briefly, only to be punctiliously dismissed. The second he attempted to move, the reddish eyes narrowed ever so slightly and the fiendish growling increased.

"Fine, have it your way," Scorpius sighed. "I'm _telling_ on you. _Mum_!"

" _Again_?" There was a slightly bemused huff coming from the doorway. He could see his dad approaching with the wild confidence that wavered with every inch he stood closer to the dog. "Down, Pesto. _Down_."

Scorpius was quite sure he'd heard the great Mastiff _snicker_. His dad's intervention had done nothing to stop or even reduce the guttural growling and sputtering, but at least the Hellhound was _amused_.

"Astoria?" The tone wasn't so much amused now as annoyed, the last syllable thundering throughout the halls of the manor. 'Annoyed' was a good word to describe the general feeling around the place regarding Pesto, the murderous Hellspawn. " _Astoria!_ "

Steps echoed oh the marbled hallways, the unhurried clicking of heels drawing nearer and nearer. Scorpius felt the weight on his torso lifting and suddenly found himself free. Free to breathe. Free to meet his dad's eyes. Free to watch as Pesto, the murderous Hellspawn, greeted Astoria with a wagging tail and lolling tongue, the very picture of innocence.

"You need to get that mutt of yours under control."

"You're too severe dearest," Astoria drawled with her usual placid coolness, her fingers scratching behind Pesto's ears as she breezed into the room. "He isn't _doing_ anything worth noting."

 _Shit_.

He was alive. Scorpius felt his arms, his legs, his chest. Nothing was missing.

"He tried to kill your son, darling. One of these days he'll chew someone's arm off."

Still alive.

Somehow Pesto had managed to not rip or even tear his shirt. Not even a nip. He only looked mildly dishevelled.

"He looks fine to me. Did he try to take a bite off of you, Scorpius dear?"

"No, but-"

"Then that's that." There was a sort of finality to her voice that allowed no discussion. "He may have become a little rambunctious when he saw you, but he means no harm."

The Mastiff made a sound that sounded something between a snigger and a cough.

"And he knows that if he did indeed hurt someone," she added smoothly, as she sat down on a nearby chair and distractedly cupped the great Mastiff's head between her hands, scratching his neck, "there would be hell to pay. Quite literally."

He would never understand what Pesto saw in his slip of a mother that imposed so much respect. He could not fathom what inflexion in her even, modulated voice Pesto held in such reverence. The truth of the matter was that at her words, the Hellhound suddenly looked a good three feet smaller and far less toothy. Sorrowful even, like a dog caught chewing his master's slipper.

"Astoria, he-" his father started protesting, only to be interrupted.

"Get up, dear, you look positively foolish," Astoria chided, shaking her head at the sorry figure he was still making on the floor. "And give me a kiss. Your friends may be savages but I'm sure I didn't raise _you_ to be one."

"I thought you liked my friends," Scorpius sheepishly muttered as he got to his feet and gave his mother a kiss.

"I certainly do." She caught his hand and gave him an appreciative once over. He gave his mother's hand a slight tug before letting it go and taking a step back. "But if dear Al had better table manners I would like him a great deal more."

She looked away now, with that slow, deliberate way of doing things that she had, focusing on the crumpled packages that lay on the floor.

"I think you dropped something, dear." The tone of her voice was placid as ever. "Such a shame, those are very prettily wrapped."

Close by, Pesto whimpered ever so slightly. Their odd relationship never ceased to amaze him.

Scorpius shook his head and picked up the crumpled packages that had slipped from the bag he was carrying. There were quite a few of them, one for his mother, one for his father, Aunt Daphne, Uncle Pierre, one for…

"Where's Grams?"

"Don't call her Grams to her face or we'll never hear the end of it," Draco retorted, taking the prettily wrapped packages from him. Or at least the formerly prettily wrapped packages. "Your grandmother… is having a bit of a lie down."

Draco seemed to hesitate, stealing a look at his wife's profile. She was crouching down on the floor, robes bunched around her and apparently distracted as she scratched Pesto's belly muttering the sort of inane babyish ' _who's a goo' boy_ ' that people might offer regular puppies of the non-hellish abomination type.

"The Manor doesn't agree with her much."

 _Oh_.

So they were at it again, were they?

"She misses the Dower House and her own pillows and her own servants and-"

No, she didn't, not truly. She just missed lording over Malfoy Manor and driving his mum insane with her endless criticism of how things had been 'just so' in Lucius' time.

"Well. Not to mention," Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably and he approached the corner of the room to the liquor cabinet, "the fact that the weather there is far better."

Such a pity she hadn't stayed there to enjoy it.

"You want a glass of something?"

"Don't mind if I do." The topic of Grandma Narcissa was always bound to get people drinking before noon. "The usual."

"You want something, Astoria?"

"A finger of pixie wine, please."

His dad took a few glasses from the cabinet and busied himself with making the drinks.

Once upon a time, when he had been a child and Grandma had still been living with them, the thought of his dad even lifting a finger to help around the house would have made him laugh.

Nowadays however, Draco almost looked like he might know what a cleaning spell was.

Curious to think they shared DNA.

"What about Aunt Daphne and Grandma?" He turned to his mother. "When do they get here?"

The years had been kind to her. Not a single strand of brown hair was out of place as she rubbed the hound's belly. There wasn't a crease, a wrinkle. No weight had been either gained or lost, her figure as willowy as ever. A single white hair lost in the middle of the chestnut brown chignon was the only thing supporting his mum's claim of being an old woman.

"They aren't." She looked back at him evenly. "Daph and Pierre are visiting his side of the family in France and Mama decided to tag along."

There was an odd undertone to his mother's usually placid voice. Huffy maybe? Contempt?

"Wasn't this our year?"

Behind his mother he could see Draco shaking his head with a now-you've-done-it look.

"Yes," Astoria replied calmly, tearing her gray eyes away from his and getting up to her feet. "It was."

Pesto nudged against her hip and a forked tongue discretely licked one of Astoria's hands.

It was then that he realized the tone wasn't so much a huff as _hurt_.

Even after all these years he still couldn't get an accurate read on her. Few people did.

It was no wonder he'd thought his mother was disappointed in him, what with his superior skills at reading her.

"They'll be here in two days time, Scorp," Draco replied appeasingly, handing his wife her one fingered pixie wine. "Plus we see them all the time." He had jumped in too fast, too eager, Scorpius noted. Too worried, a slight stutter to his words. "Poor Pierre on the other hand doesn't get a lot of time with his own parents and you know they're older and closer to… erm…"

Draco had been facing him, clearly addressing him when he spoke. Even so, Scorpius was quite sure all of this wasn't for his benefit.

With his parents it never really was.

"Kicking the bucket," Astoria offered, taking a dainty sip from her glass. "Assuming room temperature."

"Yes, that."

He looked at his parents standing side by side and tilted his head to hide the small smile tugging at his lips. They weren't attached at the hip like half the couples he knew and neither did they hate each other like the other half.

Until Al had pointed out the obvious to him a few years ago, he'd never even seen it, but it was plain as day.

"I heard someone say the other day… what was it? It was absolutely quaint." His mother's calm voice rang out, her fingers twirling the empty glass of wine with a thoughtful expression. "Counting worms?"

"How unsavoury, my dear," Draco replied, gently taking the empty glass from her hands and smiling at her. "Your mastery over vulgar idiomatic expressions will never cease to amaze me."

And, just like that, they'd forgotten he was even there.

"Well, it _is_ knowledge... after a sort. My personal favourite is 'pushing daisies'."

"It's the daintiest out of the lot, my dearest Ravenclaw. I'm not surprised you like it best."

His parents lived in a tiny world that they had built for themselves where no one else was really welcomed, merely tolerated.

It was the damnedest thing.

They loved him, sure, but they'd throw him under the bus without thinking twice if that had meant sparing the other a stubbed pinky toe.

He cleared his throat. His parents stopped whatever weird conversation it was that they were having and came crashing back down into reality.

Speaking of weird conversations.

"Dad, I-"

How had that carefully planned monologue started anyway?

"I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

Just when he'd finally mustered the courage to start again, the double doors that led from the drawing room to the parlor opened wide. From there emerged a white haired, elegant woman in light pink robes, her pale blue eyes still as sharp as they'd been twenty-years earlier.

"Scorpius, dearest," she clamored, holding out her hands to hold his and pulling him in, eyeing him from top to bottom with a critical look. After a few seconds of this, her lips tugged upwards and she pulled him in for a hug. "You should've told me he got here!" she protested, glaring reproachfully at Astoria. Never at Draco, no, never at Draco. "Oh dear, you look so handsome!"

"Thanks Grandma," Scorpius replied holding both her hands and giving them a kiss. "You look absolutely ravishing."

"That's very nice of you to say, dear. But unlike some of my peers who put on airs, _I'm_ aware that I'm positively ancient!"

"Nonsense, you don't look a day over fifty," Scorpius protested, letting go of one of her hands and twirling her around. "Don't think for one moment that I didn't notice the concièrge flirting with you the last time we went for lunch. It was positively scandalous."

"Oh, dear, flattery will get you _everywhere_ ," Narcissa beamed at her grandson and then at Draco. Never at Astoria. "You need to come visit your Grandmother more often. Now let me-"

And then the pleasant moment was over.

"Astoria, what on God's green earth is _that_?!" Narcissa took a few steps toward the window, her bright smile completely gone from her face as she examined the curtains. "Why… they're _blue._ "

"Indeed they are," Astoria replied sedately. "They go beautifully with the new chaise longue."

"What happened to the silver and green brocade ones that were there before?" Narcissa inspected the couch, her nose crinkling with disgust. "And what about the lovely velvet ottoman?!"

"They were moldy, so I had them replaced. The ottoman was falling apart."

After the wizarding war, the house had fallen mostly in disrepair, what with the army of servants and house-elves being no más.

Without maintenance, protective spells had failed all around the house. The silver brocades and luxurious green velvets had been eaten by moths and the wood had lost its shine and fallen prey to wood bugs. Gold leaf had peeled and dulled, and the floorboards had molded and bent in some of the more humid parts of the house.

It had taken his mother _years_ after Narcissa had finally moved out to return the house to some semblance of inhabitability.

But Narcissa still complained, every single time.

"Those were priceless," Narcissa scowled. "You could just as easily have had them repaired."

"Quite," the accused replied, her voice chilled as a winter's day. Pesto, who had crawled to the corner of the room upon Narcissa's arrival, glared meaningfully at the woman sitting on the chaise longue. "But then I'd have to live with them."

"Well, you've always been the kind to appreciate function over form."

Scorpius was sure that was supposed to be a veiled insult of some sort.

"I know, I know." Astoria's calm expression hadn't shifted a single millimeter since the beginning of the conversation. "I'm quite incorrigible."

"Now Mother, can I get you a drink?" Draco fidgeted and walked toward the liquor cabinet. "Pixie wine,maybe?"

"Of all the wishy-washy things you could offer," Narcissa complained, rolling her eyes. "And no, you know I don't drink."

Not before five anyway. After that the woman was like a fish.

"How have you been, Grandma?"

"Quite lovely, dear. Did you get the little gift I sent for your new house?"

Oh he'd gotten it alright - there just had never seemed to be a good _time_ to hang the gargantuan grand chandelier he'd gotten in the mail. Or _place_ for that matter.

"Yes Grandma, it's just what I wanted. How did you know?!"

"Well, any new house needs light fixtures," was the woman's gracious retort. "It only made sense."

She still lived in a time where chandeliers and high ceilings were the norm. It'd kill her if she actually saw his place - which was partly why he made it a point to never, ever, _ever_ have her over. The other part was of course the fact that he lived with a Potter and a Weasley which was something that they'd all unanimously agreed she must never know about.

"Oh right, I almost forgot to tell you," Narcissa exclaimed, a pleasant smile on her face. "Astoria, I told you to remind me of it!"

"Oh yes," Astoria replied with a placid smile. "I quite forgot."

From the other corner of the room, Pesto, who had been in the process of cleaning his paws, growled lowly.

"We saw your _Weasley_ friend, the other day… Jane or Daisy or something of the sort… Merlin, what was her name? I recall it was something remarkably pedestrian…"

In her defense, at least she was _trying_ , which was far more than he recalled. Talking to him about people he knew and who were in his generation rather than a string of middle aged people he'd never met and didn't wish to meet, was a definite improvement.

Maybe the old bat really _was_ dying as she so often claimed.

"Rose, Mother," Astoria interjected, calmly walking up to a side table and straightening a flower that had tipped over in a nearby arrangement. "It's Rose."

Scorpius inhaled sharply.

No, no, no, no, _no_.

 _No_.

Just _no_.

 _Not_ Rose.

Absolutely no good could come out of this.

Draco's eyebrows were furrowed, eyes shifting warily between his wife and his mother, exactly like a man caught in the crossfire.

"Why, yes, _that_. I knew it was something vulgar." Narcissa crossed her long legs, brushing a hand to straighten her immaculate white hair. "We went to St. Mungo's for a routine visit with dear, _dear_ Georgiana..." She paused and held out her hand for Draco to hold. "You remember her, don't you, dearest? Such a _beautiful_ girl, so kind, so talented!"

"Yes, Mother," he replied, giving his mother's hand an affectionate tug and cautiously eyeing his wife. "Georgie has done quite well for herself."

Ah yes, Georgie Selwyn. Mum's least favourite person in the whole world, Dad's former flame and Grandma's first choice for the role of the next Mrs. Malfoy some twenty something years back.

Pesto's ears perked up and he barked in the general direction of Narcissa before rushing over to nuzzle his head against Astoria's hip.

"You need to get rid of that dog, Astoria" snapped Narcissa, glaring at Pesto. "Hellhounds were all the rage a few years ago, but yours is just _ghastly_. Why, just the other day I was at Avery Manor and _their_ hellhound-"

Yes, yes, Grandma. Mum's dog is shit and every other dog in the world is better, more svelte and less murder-y.

He looked over at Pesto who had sat down, impeccably straight, as if trying to prove he was indeed the best boy. The impression was only partially ruined by the fact that he was still glaring at Narcissa as if he'd like to take a chunky bite off of her.

"- I swear, you wouldn't even think they were the same _breed_! I bet you let it climb all over the furniture and run rampant around here. In my day-"

Ah, the "in my day" tirade: always refreshing with just the right amount of pedantic and judgmental with the smallest pinch of Pureblood prejudice.

"We've told you a million times before, Mother, we're _not_ getting rid of Pesto." Draco took a few lazy steps toward his wife and homicidal Fido and scratched his ears. "He's part of the family."

Every time, the same bloody conversations.

Every time, the bloody décor and Georgie Selwyn and Pesto's inadequacy and Scorpius' horrible taste in friends.

It was maddening.

"Why of course, dear, I was only jesting!" Narcissa gave a mirthless laughter and folded her hands on her lap, the very picture of wounded innocence. "I was just-"

He could see his father tensing in anticipation of the next string of inanity that would come from Grandma's mouth.

 _Merlin_ , time to take one for the team.

"You were saying about Rose, Grandma...?"

The silver haired woman looked over at him and grinned with adoration. Scorpius got up and sat down next to her on the velvet blue couch. He leaned forward with what he hoped _looked_ like anticipation, contrasting with the pit of dread in his stomach.

"Oh, right!" She looked over at him, blissfully unaware of the chaos she had been causing. "You see, we were over to see Georgie - did you know, she's the only Healer nowadays in that entire building who isn't a no-one?"

Ah, Grandma, and that low-key blood bias of hers, always a party favourite.

"And _that's_ when that shabby looking creature walks into the room, holding some files or charts or something! She barely looked human, didn't she Astoria?"

"Tired," replied Astoria with her habitual calm. "I think 'tired' is the word you're looking for, Mother."

Looking over at her, Scorpius wasn't sure how she managed to always sound unfailingly polite.

"Yes, Rose is quite hard-working," Draco chimed in, throwing Scorpius a compassionate look. "She was always rather brilliant, but her determination is just... something else."

" _Yes_ , that's what I was saying!" Narcissa protested, impatiently tapping her heel on the marble floor. "Wide eyed and dishevelled and gaunt, you know what she reminded me of?"

"No, Grandma." Scorpius rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. " _What_ did she remind you of?"

"A house-elf, fancy that!" Narcissa looked delighted, a peal of laughter erupting from her throat at the irony. "Her mother was always so keen on 'saving' the wretched things and now she's got a daughter that _looks_ like one."

Oh wow.

"They're just called Elves now, Mother," Draco corrected her patiently. They'd been over this time and time again. "And from what I remember, Rose looks nothing like one."

Just… _wow_.

To his surprise, Pesto started growling. It was a low, throaty growl that sounded nothing like anything he'd heard before. It wasn't the protective gnarl reserved for his mother or the snarl that he sometimes used when something upset his father.

It took him a few seconds before he realized Pesto was growling for _his_ benefit.

"She's quite a lovely girl," Astoria continued, gently stroking Pesto's ears. The hellhound quickly composed himself and went back to pretending to be a china dog. Scorpius could have sworn he saw a glimpse of a smile on his mother's face. "Unfailingly polite too. As soon as she saw us she came over to say hello."

"Merlin, you all take this so seriously," Narcissa chuckled airily. "I didn't say she looked ugly, I just said she looks like a house-elf!"

"Just Elf," replied Astoria and Draco at the same time.

"I swear, you two are becoming milder and more spineless with every passing year." Narcissa pouted and smoothed down her skirt. "This isn't how you were _raised_! What are you so afraid of? It's just us here."

Thank Merlin for that.

"One can't say anything nowadays! It's Elves this, and Creatures of The Night that, and freedom of speech for everyone… but you say You-Know-Who was a brilliant wizard and suddenly everyone is offended."

And there it was.

The Speech.

"Grandma, that's not-"

"What about _my_ freedom of speech, in my own house?" She gazed reproachfully at her son and he shifted uncomfortably. "I swear, you're so busy pandering to those Potters and Weasleys and the rest of those other social climbers who profited from the war, that you've forgotten all about the fact that you're _Malfoys_!"

The Messed Up Speech.

The one that popped up in the most inconvenient, often public situations. It was enough to drive a man mad. Back when he was younger, before he'd gone to Hogwarts, The Speech hadn't been a big deal.

Nowadays, however, it was just plain embarrassing.

"Really Draco, you really should stand up for yourself. Remember when your Father was alive? We used to be-"

Pesto snarled. His mother's face was an impassive mask, a single finger lightly curled around the Hellhound's collar.

"You mean in the good old days, when Father pandered to _Voldemort_?" Draco had paled considerably and his tone was sharp. Hearing his father say You-Know-Who's name was always… _something_. "Just… _shut_ _up_."

Narcisa gasped, her thin eyebrows knitting together in a frown. "Why, I never-"

"No, I swear if you're going to talk about it like it was wonderful-"

"Darling, you're being rude," Astoria tittered, her free hand softly brushing against her husband's arm. He visibly relaxed at her touch, and his eyes softened. "Your mother simply meant... things are _different_ now."

Of course that wasn't what she meant. But it was a lifeline.

One that he was taking.

"Did you see-"

"How was your-"

Astoria and him spoke at the same time. Apparently his mother had the same instinct as him. His gaze met hers and he smiled ruefully. "You first."

"How was your date with Adelia?"

Oh, her change of conversation was far better than his. He'd meant to ask whether Grandma had seen the new Fairy Lights that they'd filled Gringotts with.

This was more up Grandma's alley.

"Adelia...?" The old woman frowned for a second and then her pale eyes brightened. "You don't mean Addy _Shawcross_ , do you?"

Unfortunately, yes, she did.

"Yeah." Now how to put it. "Well, she was very nice but-"

Fortunately his grandmother didn't share his scruples.

"Oh, Merlin you can say it outright. The girl looks like a _fish_." Narcissa chuckled, holding out her hand and patting his. "Really, Astoria, you set him up with _Addy Shawcross_?"

"Like he said, she's a very nice girl." Astoria shrugged. "And she comes from a great family, I thought you'd be pleased."

"Well, they _are_ still filthy rich," Narcissa said, tilting her head to the side. "But Scorpius could do so much better."

"He could, but not if he keeps rejecting them for no good reason," Draco chimed in, a grin on his face. He had finally relaxed, watching his mother and wife bicker about a less sensitive topic. "Astoria's set him up with far less… fishy girls before."

"I'm sure he just has the sense not to settle for someone inferior," his grandmother said, eyeing him proudly. "I'm sure they weren't right."

"Clarissa Marfont was," added his mother, rather unhelpfully. "Her laugh annoyed him."

"And Nina Gérard," Draco chimed in. "Her accent was frustrating."

"Mélanie Lussier was too candid." Astoria was counting on her fingers now. "Alessandra Ferroni wasn't candid enough."

"Merlin, not to mention Kate Towler," his dad pointed out, shaking his head. "I'll never understand why you broke up with her, she's absolutely delightful."

Ah, Kate! He'd forgotten Kate on the list of recurring topics, but here she was.

Few people realised that Kate Towler and him were as incompatible as water and oil. She was still a really good friend and perfect in almost every possible aspect, just not someone he could see himself with. Not anymore.

"Fine, maybe they were right," said Grandma, turning up her nose at the mention of Kate. "Maybe they just weren't right for _him_."

Her motives weren't exactly pure: Kate was not part of the roster of inbred pureblood debutants and was therefore undesirable. Still, Scorpius, who had been feeling honestly so attacked, stretched out his hand to hold hers and gave it a kiss.

For all her flaws, Grandma usually had his back.

"What about Angèlique?"

Or maybe not.

"Angèlique? Angie? Bu- She-" That was wrong in so many ways he didn't even know where to begin. "For one she's my _cousin._ "

"So what?" Narcissa asked, chuckling gaily. "You like her."

"She's _eighteen_ , for Merlin's sake!" He was stuttering wildly and he looked over at his parents for support. They shrugged. To them there was nothing wrong with marrying in the family. "She's a _child_!"

"Don't be ridiculous! You're twenty-one, not forty."

"Nope. Not Angie. Never Angie." The mere thought made him gag. _Merlin_ , she was still like _five_. Or at least that was how he saw her. "No, _no_."

"Yes, Mother," replied Draco, finally stepping in. "They've known each other forever."

"And there are plenty of eligible girls out there."

There really weren't. Not by Malfoy standards anyway.

"Scorpius will have no trouble finding someone."

"Despite the state this wretched society has fallen to," Narcissa replied, a condescending smile on her face, "something that's changed for the better, is that he'll get to pick and choose who he ends up with."

Anyone… as long as she was part of the small pool of inbred purebloods, of course.

He was aware of the expectations: find a nice pureblood girl, marry her and produce a flock of little pureblood, astronomy named-after children.

He also knew that it was never, _ever_ going to happen.

This shit ended with him.

"How's the Dower House, Grandma?"

There was a sweetness in his voice that contrasted with the anger he felt.

"You'd know if you came to visit more often. Duffy finally managed to make the primroses stick on the east garden and they're looking quite lovely."

He loved his family. He loved this house, despite its broken-down drawing rooms and its unsavoury history. He loved Pesto and, surprisingly enough, he loved his Grandmother. He'd even loved his Grandfather, back when he'd been too young to not dislike him on principle alone.

But he didn't want this for himself.

He wondered if the Weasley or Potter offspring spent their family gatherings ping-ponging from topic to topic in hopes they might find one that was safe for everyone.

He was guessing not.

"We've been trying to grow them for years with no success." Astoria sat down on one of the chairs facing the chaise-longue. "How did he do it?"

"Well, it was a combination of…"

The conversation seamlessly shifted to gardening and the wonderful new fertilizer Grandma's gardener Duffy had found from a local Potioneer. There was talk of how Giant jasmins were far superior to regular sized ones and how the Hellebores had really come into their own this winter.

As he saw his father laughing at something his Grandmother had said about garden gnomes, and his mother smiling beatifically while she stroked Pesto's soft ears, Scorpius found himself carefully pondering whether or not talking to his parents really was necessary.

By dinner time, when the roast goose was being carved on the table, he'd already edited down his little speech for the upteenth time, trying to make it less hazardous.

By the time the christmas pudding was being set on the table, he had realised beyond any shadow of a doubt that talking to them would only serve to spoil an otherwise perfectly nice Christmas.

And when the gifts were being unwrapped the next morning, as he stood, surrounded by crumpled wrapping paper and assorted gifts from various relatives (some of whom he'd never met) he decided it was best to just wait.

Perhaps indefinitely.

Which meant this was something he needed to figure out on his own.


	15. Chapter 15

_Thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you guys give me life! :) Thank you **The Chirpy Bitch** for beta-ing the chapter as usual - which is unusually long so kudos!_

 _As usual follows, favourites and reviews are bae since it's the only way I have of knowing if anyone is actually reading / enjoying this drivel!_

* * *

 **December 26th, 2027 - 02h45**

The fireplace crackled.

Rose stopped scowling at the indecipherable Pediatrics report her sleep deprived brain had produced before Christmas and found herself looking at the flushed face of Scorpius Malfoy.

Oh, great.

She'd really hoped the blonde boy might prefer to extend his stay at his parents' place. When Al had told her he was going to Yardley's for a Christmas party she'd almost jumped for joy at the unexpected respite.

She felt hollow after spending the holidays at The Burrow. She felt drained and tired and done with the world. Not physically - she'd hardly had a better night's sleep these past few months - just… emotionally.

There were only so many different ways she could try to explain that she had no life to people who refused to accept it.

'But surely you could find time for lunch' and 'Really, Rose, you're being overdramatic'. 'Come on, we could all go out for dinner'.

She wanted to _scream_ at them. She loved them, but everyone needed to take a chill pill and lay off her.

If she never saw another human being again it'd be too soon.

It was fortunate then that Scorpius Malfoy hardly qualified as one.

The blonde tosser was dragging a series of bags behind him, undoubtedly the spoils of his Christmas. He looked like he was here to stay.

He was also wearing the most appalling robes she'd ever laid eyes on.

"You look happy." There was a tinge of sarcasm to Scorp's words as he haphazardly dumped the bags on a nearby chair. "Good Christmas?"

No unreasonable insults, no infantile name-calling, _nothing_.

It was so _odd_. Pleasant, but still odd, like there was something missing.

"What in Morgana's name are you _wearing_?" Rose asked between chuckles as she took in his attire. "What _is_ that?"

Civility be damned, she'd never in her entire life seen such obnoxious party robes as the one Scorp was donning right now. If a lace shop and a bucket of green paint decided to get married and have babies, that robe would be the unfortunate offspring.

"Grandma's gift," he replied, removing the monstrosity and carefully draping it over the bags. "It's unspeakable, isn't it?"

He sat down on the chair closest to her and crossed his arms on top of one of her book piles, looked as tired and done with the world as she felt. The man was apparently immune to the holly-bloody-jolly madness that was affecting everyone else.

It made her want to hug him.

This might not be so bad after all.

"There are no words," Rose replied, a smile growing on her lips. "Grandma Molly sent you a gift. It's somewhere in my bags if you're keen."

She didn't need to tell him what it was, he bloody well knew. The man had been receiving the mandatory Weasley jumper ever since he had showered Grandma's pie with compliments that one time back in Third Year.

Sly of him, yes.

"You're damned right I am. She's the only one who ever gets my size right," Scorp huffed, throwing a disdainful nod at the general direction of his discarded gifts. "I got ten of them and not a single one is a proper fit."

Truth be told, Grandma Molly didn't bother knowing what size people were nowadays. A few years back Al had managed to charm his to be a perfect fit and since then all the Weasley jumpers came magicked that way.

Rose always pretended she didn't know and always made a big fuss about it - Grandma always got a nice flush on her face, she was so pleased.

She wasn't about to let Malfoy in on it. The wanker always got a picture embroidered on his, though by now Grandma Weasley was bound to be out of Quidditch references: she'd done Bludgers, brooms, Puddlemere's logo...

And all Rose ever got was a bloody 'R'.

"What are you frowning about?" One of Scorp's hands lazily reached over, his fingers smoothing over the crease between her eyebrows. "And why aren't you at Yardley's party?"

It was meant to be a nice gesture.

The second he touched her every single one of her Healer instincts kicked into gear at the same time.

"Your hands are freezing." Rose grasped his hand between her own and held it in place for a second.

He _was_ looking rather flushed as he tried to wiggle his hand away from her grasp. She eyed him critically for a few seconds, taking in the too shiny eyes, the flushed countenance.

She would've spotted it the second he walked in had she not been so immersed on those stupid robes.

"I'm bloody fine."

Hopefully, he was right.

"Don't be a baby," Rose scowled, getting up to her feet. "We've had Shivers running rampant this year. Were there any kids at your place?"

She reached out to feel his forehead and he dodged out of the way, like the pest he was.

She hated sick people.

"Stop it woman," he complained, smacking her hand out of the way. "I feel _fine_."

Rose gritted her teeth. It took every single ounce of self restraint to stop herself from tackling him right there and then.

"Were there kids, Scorp? Yay or nay?"

She.

Hated.

Sick.

People.

"Sure there were. A bunch of sticky fingered brats."

The perfect vessel for Shivers. Kids incubated slower and tended to spread the damned bug all over the place before anyone knew what was happening.

"Goddamnit, Malfoy." Rose planted her hands on his cheeks and held his face. "Stop squirming."

"Back to Malfoy, are we?" He was more flushed now, if that was even possible. "I liked Scorp better."

"Only when you're being a pain," Rose grinned, not so gently slapping a hand onto his forehead. "Which you are."

He was burning up and not in a Pretty-Girl-Is-Touching-My-Face way, no.

Burning. Up.

There went her stupid Pediatrics report. In ten hours they'd both be bedridden like a couple of idiots.

And Rose Weasley was the biggest idiot of all, touching him without inoculating herself like that. She might as well have ordered a vial of infection to go with her morning coffee.

"Come on, we're getting you to St. Mungo's," Rose said, grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet. "We'd better send word to your parents too."

Malfoy Manor was probably an incubator for Shivers right now.

Lovely, just lovely.

"Can't I just take a potion or something?"

Ah, this.

There was no potion that could stop the Shivers, per say. If she were lucky getting it caught this early might spare her some vomiting, but Scorp had a nasty week coming his way.

The thing with Shivers was that you had to ride it out. There was no shortcut.

First you put up with the shaking and the high fever. Then the magical bit of the bug kicked in and you were given the joyful gift of hot flashes and persistent vomiting.

When your body finally managed to fight back, you would just collapse into a coma of sorts, completely unaware of your surroundings and shriek yourself hoarse. Of all the stages it was the least work. There was no vomit to clear, no sweaty sheets to change.

It was also the most emotionally draining.

And then there was the regular sniffles, dripping nose and itchy throat that came with any stupid cold.

"Sorry, I _just_ ran out of Miracle Cures." Irony tinged her words as she helplessly felt her pockets with her hands as if looking for an imaginary vial. "If you'd only gotten here ten minutes earlier-"

"Oh, _shut_ up."

" _You_ shut up, Patient Zero. I'll be out of commission for a bloody week at the very least." She met Scorp's too bright gray eyes and asked, her lips set in a thin line: "Do you feel like you want to hurl?"

Thank Merlin for that stupid party.

At least Al would come out of this unscathed.

"Every time I look at you," he replied, obnoxiously grinning up at her. "Every single day."

Wanker.

Rose couldn't help grinning back at him. For someone about to be whisked away on a midnight stroll to St. Mungo's just a day after Christmas he was behaving rather well. She'd always pictured him as a fussy baby when it came to this, more like Albus and less like… well, her.

"Seriously, though."

She grabbed one of his warmer robes from the coat rack and tossed it at him.

"Not at the moment, no." He picked it up and wrapped it around himself. "Should I?"

"Let's hope you stay that way."

Hopefully she was wrong.

Hopefully he was fine. Maybe he'd caught a spot of cold and was just feverish.

Working at St. Mungo's always had you guessing the worse. It could be just that: a regular, run of the mill, non-magical cold.

Rose picked up her own jacket and pulled one of Al's scarves from the rack. She walked over to Scorpius and decisively draped it around his neck, almost choking him with it.

Again, he didn't complain.

"You're being rather nice about all this," Rose commented, eyeing him warily.

"You're the Healer," he replied, shrugging and pulling the scarf to give himself some breathing room. "Should I kick up a fuss instead?"

"Nah," she replied, taking his freezing hand into her own and picking up her wand from the nearby bowl. "Please don't."

* * *

 **December 26th, 2027 - 04h10**

Sometimes she hated being right.

By the time she had managed to track down Choi, Scorp was shaking like a leaf and his forehead was so hot you could have used it to fry an egg.

"You know we can't keep him here."

Yes, Scorp would have needed to be much more far gone to be admitted. She could of course sit with him for another day and come back tomorrow, let him incubate for a while and come back when he _really_ was dying.

Wishful thinking.

Rose's scowl met Choi's.

The man opened up a cabinet and started removing familiar vials from them. There was everything from hydration potions to gastric liners there.

"Ride it out. By now you know the drill but I'm writing it down anyway."

Just in case she was too stupid to remember it tomorrow after the Shivers kicked in, was what he meant.

"Thanks."

"I don't want to see you around for two weeks. I'll talk to Jeffers and the rest and let them know you'll be away."

Great, now she was being banned from her place of employment.

"What about my work?"

"I'll have Alec Sauvage take care of it." He always said the guy's name in that deliberate, unpleasant way that he reserved for the people he really, truly disliked. "Merry Christmas, Miss Weasley."

Maybe Choi _did_ have a sense of humor after all.

* * *

"Al, don't come home," Rose told him over the phone as she tried to juggle the bazillion potions Choi had given her. "Malfoy's got the Shivers."

To be frank, the moment he'd touched her forehead there was a 50% chance he'd given them to her. When she'd touched him without inoculating herself, like a bloody amateur, that's when she'd caught it for sure.

Amusing to think she was depending on her immune system to tide her over. The way she'd been going for the past two years, she doubted she even had one anymore.

"Shit, do you want me to come over?"

" _No_ , are you an idiot? _Anything_ but that. It's a bloody mess. Can you stay at Yardley's?"

"Sure. Do you need anything?"

Scorp wordlessly started grabbing potions out of her arms and stuffing them inside his much larger robe pockets.

She threw him a thankful look.

"Just stay the hell away," she told Al. "I might be able to take care of both of us but if I have to Scourgify for three I may kill myself."

"I'll ask Horace to get you guys some chicken soup!"

That had been Yardley, of course. Judging from the slurred way the two of them were talking, they were happily buzzed already.

"Not for a few days. Tell him to send it over around Friday."

"Sure thing, Rosie. Get better!"

Hopefully the two idiots would remember not to come prancing around the next morning.

"Here we go," Rose said, sitting down next to Scorp, a hand brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face. "Come on."

He didn't move, looking over at her with a frown.

"What, _now_ you're going to be difficult?" Her lips pursed and she scowled back at him. "Really?"

There was no way she could drag him by herself if he didn't want to go. She could probably get him to the lobby with the Ant Carrying spell, but she couldn't very well stuff him into the Floo, he'd undoubtedly wind up somewhere weird.

Maybe she should just carry his ass back home by walking. The flat was close by. Maybe-

"I'm sorry."

Her eyebrows shot up. Scorp had been awfully quiet since they'd gotten to St. Mungo's and he chose to break his vow of silence to apologize? For something that wasn't even his fault?

Odd to think this was the same asshole she'd gone to Hogwarts with.

"I know, dear, I know." He looked so miserable it made her heart hurt. She took his shaking hands into her own, pulling him up to his feet. "Let's get you home."

"For what it's worth, you're-"

But she never really knew what she was because Scorp chose that moment to barf all over her.

Just. Lovely.

* * *

Luckily, Jesse Boot had been on call and he'd helped her get Scorp home. The pair of them had set out to gather every clean sheet and every clean pair of pajamas in the house, stockpiling them like they were made of gold.

He helped her extend the couch wide and far enough that they managed to fit Scorp's mattress on top of it, creating a makeshift sofa-bed of sorts. The pair gathered towels, tea mugs and other assorted necessities, removed any breakables out of the way and cleared the path to and from the bathroom, preparing the house for the onslaught of sweat and barf that would hit the following day.

"You sure you don't want me to swing by?"

" _Don't_!" Her tone had come out a little sharper than she intended and she quickly corrected herself: "Thanks so much Jesse. We'll be fine."

If there was anything she hated more than being sick it was having people fussing over her.

And Jesse was a _fusser_.

She'd seen him worrying himself silly over multiple patients and had vowed never to let him anywhere near her even if she were dying.

 _Especially_ if she were dying.

"You sure? I can move here for a couple of days-"

Hell to the bloody no. She'd rather eat dirt.

"No, no, really, you've done more than enough already."

"If you do need me, I'm a call away."

"I know," she said sheepishly, glancing at the earnest face of her co-worker. "Thanks."

"Remember, plenty of fluids. And don't let Malfoy get cold. And make sure you have food for when you guys get better-"

"I know Jess. I know."

Rose sighed with relief as he finally left. The man was _exhausting_. Great person, but so tiresome. She peered into the fireplace, wondering for a second if she should blacklist him from their Floo, at least while this lasted.

Maybe not. If things got really bad… ah, but she didn't want to go there, did she?

This whole endeavour was entirely based on her delusion that she could hold the fort. If she started mulling over the million things that could go wrong, she might as well give up now.

"You hanging in there?" Rose looked over at Scorp, who was lying on the couch. They'd dragged his duvet from his room and he was practically buried in it. "Want me to get you a cup of tea?"

He'd managed to get into fresh pajamas himself this once but she figured it was only a matter of time before she ended up seeing Scorp naked and vice-versa, which, truth be told, was going to be far more mortifying for him than it would be for her.

At the end of the day, naked people were just that: naked people. She'd seen a million of them, she hardly noticed it anymore.

" _Can_ you make tea?"

Pretty chirpy for someone who'd hurled his Christmas dinner all over her.

"Tea doesn't burn," she pointed out, shaking her head at him and getting up to her feet. "I might just manage."

"Then yeah."

Rose returned a few minutes later to find him asleep. She quietly set down the mug close to him on one of the side tables Jesse had helped move. Scorp stirred in his sleep and she backed away slowly, not wanting to wake him. She sat down at her usual spot, her lips pressed into a thin line as she watched one of the healthiest people she knew shudder and writhe in his sleep.

She'd seen sick people, hell, her life was filled to the brim with them. And yet somehow this was new and different. It made her heart ache.

It was going to be a shitty couple of days.

* * *

 **December 27th, 2027 - 02h20**

"Come on, mate, you gotta help me here," she groaned, as she forcefully pulled Scorp onto a sitting position. "Shirt off."

He was drenched in sweat and his body temperature had just taken a nosedive.

The seemingly endless pile of pajamas he owned - seriously, there were like a million of them - was starting to look sparse and it had only been a day. And she was starting to feel a bit… iffy, to say the least.

The corpse of a man complied, his face as pale as the sheets he was lying in. Scorp pulled the shirt over his head and allowed her to cast a drying spell on him before slipping into the new one.

"You're going to need to shower soon. I can help if you want."

She could _still_ help. In a few hours that wouldn't be the case anymore.

"I'd rather drown in my own sweat," he scowled, looking away as if he were incapable of looking her in the eye, "thank you very much."

To his credit, Scorp was pretty much the ideal patient. He'd spent the past twenty hours quietly allowing her to manhandle him, through and through.

Unfortunately it seemed he drew the line at her giving him a shower, which he was in desperate need of.

"It's your call. I still think-"

"Pants," he demanded, holding out a hand to her. "Please."

Ah yes, the other line Scorp refused to cross. Pants.

It was kind of cute in a sickeningly naive sort of way.

What, he thought she'd never seen a naked man before?

"Sure," she replied, handing him the matching pants and throwing him an interrogative look. "Are you-"

Oh great. At this point Scorp's pre-hurling grimace had been carved into her mind.

She wordlessly dropped the pants and handed him a basin instead. A few horrific moments of heaving and a Scourgify later and all was good.

"Better?" Rose picked up a towel and handed it to him. "You've been awfully quiet."

Apart of course from the occasional groans and moans that took her right back to Choi's class.

"Have I mentioned how bloody sorry I am?"

He looked it.

There was absolutely nothing attractive about him at the moment. Between the angry flush, the matted hair pasted to his forehead and the fact that she'd seen every single meal he'd ingested coming out in reverse order, he'd never been more disgusting.

Yet in a way, she had never liked him more.

"Only a million times," Rose said, forcing a smile onto her face and hiding her hands behind her back. "It's fine."

Except of course, it wasn't.

Her hands had started to shake an hour ago.

"It's _not_ ," Scorp scoffed, rubbing the towel over his face and tossing it at her. "And don't pretend you're okay, you're so obviously _not_."

"Sod off." Rose's admittedly shaky hands grasped the towel and she dumped it into the basket along with the sweaty pajamas and the ever growing pile of drenched bedsheets. "You want me to ask your parents to pick you up?"

The horrified look on his face said it all.

She'd asked him about it right off the bat and that same look of dismay had come up. She was sure it resembled hers when he had asked her if she wouldn't rather stay at _her_ parents.

"You're a bloody tyrant," he sputtered, picking up the fresh cup of tea she'd placed next to him and sipping it quietly. "Shouldn't you… I don't know, get in here?"

That had been the plan all along, hadn't it?

Coexisting on the damned couch for a week for the sake of convenience.

Her own room wouldn't allow her to go in.

Al's charm was just a tad too strong. It wouldn't allow a sick person to go in because of the stupid soundproofing. One time she'd gotten a paper cut and it had kicked her out on her ass.

Despite repeated protests, Al had never gotten around to fixing it.

Still, even if it did work, having the two of them in the same room was just more practical. Moreover, she'd be damned if she was going to be cooped up in Scorp's Man Cave for a week, even if it _did_ have an ensuite.

"Not yet," Rose replied, scowling at the pile of clothes. "You don't think you could squeeze out a laundry spell in that state, do you?"

On a good day she was useless with domestic spells. On a bad one, what with her hands shaking the way they were… she might accidentally burn down the house instead.

She could do a Scourgify blindfolded but hand her a dirty dish and she was practically helpless.

"Hand me my wand, will you?"

She did.

Ten minutes later Scorp was dry heaving into the basin again and the pile of sheets and pajamas was freshly laundered and folded on the side table.

* * *

 **December 28th, 2027 - 05h10**

It was the forty-eight hour mark and they'd gotten the routine pegged down at this point. Every two hours or so one of them would wake up drenched in their own sweat. Scorp would use his impeccable skills at making beds to swap the sheets and wash them while Rose would drag herself up to pick up the potions and make them a fresh pot of tea.

Then there was the whole pajamas swapping ordeal which implied she needed to dry the pair of them before they swapped into the freshly laundered ones.

It was always a moment of undue tension, grating their already paper thin nerves.

"You can't just bloody take your shirt off like that!" Scorp barked, turning away and flushing furiously. "At least wait until I'm not looking!"

"Yes, I'm sure I'm just _oozing_ sex appeal right now," Rose spat back, slipping on a new top. " _However_ will you control yourself?"

"Don't you have _any_ semblance of shame?"

"You _do_ know people are naked under their clothes, right?"

"Merlin, I _hate_ you!"

"No, you don't."

Fun times.

* * *

By the third day, Scorp collapsed. It took every inch of will power she had in her to do alone what the pair of them had been doing together. The well oiled machine had crumpled and Rose wondered, more than once, if she should call Jesse over.

The mere thought made her tap into reserves of strength she didn't know she had in her.

Especially when Scorp started screaming out in the middle of the night.

* * *

 **January 1st, 2028**

Rose wiggled her crusty eyes open, shielding them from the light that was coming from the window. There was no sound coming from Scorp's side of the bed, no tossing, no turning.

That might just be because he wasn't there.

She sat upright, her eyes desperately searching for the blonde boy.

Had he fallen? Was he dead?

No, of course not.

He was just sitting there at _her_ usual spot by the fireplace, reading a book and looking rather lively for someone who'd been completely unresponsive a few hours ago.

"You're looking better," Rose groaned, pushing the oily mop that passed for her hair away from her eyes. Her voice was cracked and squawkey and hardly there at all. She cleared her throat only to find that it made no difference. " _Are_ you better?"

If looks were any indication, yes, he was. He'd be the last person in the world you'd imagine having spent the past four days bedridden. At the very least he'd showered and was back up on his feet, which was more than she expected.

"Much," Scorp said, getting up and taking a seat on the couch arm closest to her and placing a hand on her forehead. "How are you?"

She glared at him and he mechanically held a basin out to her.

There wasn't anything to throw up at this point but her body was still rather keen on it.

She could feel his hands gently pulling her hair back and for a second all she wanted to do was cry.

"Peachy." She didn't even have the strength to protest as Scorp took the basin and scourgified whatever little drool she'd managed to produce. "I'm _so_ sorry."

"I think we're over that, love."

Scorp sat back down and handed her a cup of tea which Rose eagerly took. She felt like she hadn't had a drink in days, which was ridiculous because…

 _Wait_ a minute.

"What…" Rose hesitated and tried her best to get a look at the Grandfather clock. "What _time_ is it?"

"You've been pretty out of it for about... thirty-six hours. Happy New Year."

Oh great, she'd lost two days. That explained the throat and the fact that her lips were so dry they were practically peeling off.

It was then that she noticed her pajamas were… not… hers. She looked up at him and then down at her pajamas then back at Scorpius.

She certainly didn't _remember_ putting them on.

A single, horrifying notion assaulted her.

"Did you…?"

"Yeah." He looked far less embarrassed than she would have expected. "Shouldn't I have?"

"No, no, you did good." Rose shook her head, trying to sound dismissive. "I mean it. Who'd have dreamed you'd get over your squeamish-"

"It's called shame," Scorp scowled, taking the cup of tea from her hands. "You should get some."

She could feel her cheeks flushing and it had absolutely nothing to do with the Shivers.

"It's nothing you haven't seen a million times."

She was saying it more for her benefit than his.

What now, she was fine with seeing people naked and undressing in front of them but _him_ changing _her_ was cause for awkwardness?!

 _Really?_

"Take a shower," Scorp replied, his lips pursed into a thin line. "You'll feel better."

She realized it wasn't so much the thought of him changing her that bothered her. It was the thought of the man-child who couldn't bear to see an inch of flesh doing it for her.

It made her feel warm and cozy and happy and loved and goddamnit, this was ridiculous.

"Are _you_? Feeling better, I mean?"

"Have been just fine for about a day-and-a-half," Scorp replied, grabbing her arm and helping her up to her feet. "I woke up and you were dead in the water. I had to call Jesse over. You're right, he's incredibly annoying."

Oh bloody great, he'd invited Jesse in.

"Tell me you told him to bugger off and never come back," Rose groaned, leaning on the couch arm for support. "The man's like a bloody boomerang, he'll just keep coming back if you let him."

"I kicked him out," Scorp replied, grinning back at her. "I don't think he'll like me very much after this."

"Bless you."

"He said…" Scorp hesitated, grabbing hold of her arm and holding her steady. "He said it might take you a while longer to get back on your feet."

Oh, lovely. Just… bloody… lovely.

"I feel fine." Rose gritted her teeth and looked up at the concerned face of her foe turned friend turned partner in sickness. "Jesse's a worry-wart."

She was lying of course.

Scorp was an able bodied person who took care of himself.

She was an insomniac with a penchant for undereating who hadn't exercised since before she'd left Hogwarts.

The math wasn't hard.

"Do you need help?"

She was a grown ass woman and she'd be damned if she was about to let Scorpius Malfoy help her _shower_.

"No." Rose paused and looked at the arm, the only thing keeping her upright. "But if you could drop me over at the loo I'd be fine with it."

* * *

It was all fine and dandy when he was the gross one or when they were both repulsive.

However right now, he was looking fresh as a daisy whereas she… oh, Merlin. Rose looked at the mirror and took in the sunken cheeks, chapped lips and pasty red hair sticking to her head at odd angles. She looked at the discarded oversized pajamas, which were either Al's or Scorp's and the still crusty eyes that she hadn't properly wiped.

She didn't suppose she'd ever looked worse.

She survived the tribulation that was bathing through will-power alone. She wasn't entirely sure how she'd managed to run a bath and throw herself into it without falling flat on her face.

In the end he turned out to be right: she did feel better. She was still shaking but at least she wasn't human garbage anymore.

Rose stepped out of the bathroom and eyed him accusingly.

"Did you drop me in the shower while I was out?!"

"Merlin, no," Scorp replied, lifting his eyes from his book and meeting her gaze. "It was hard enough undressing you with my eyes closed."

"Thanks," Rose said, sitting down on the couch. "I just wasn't half as disgusting as I'd expected."

He'd swapped the sheets while she was gone. She could feel the faint scent of vanilla as she slipped her feet into the clean sheets. If he was bothering with fruity smells he probably _was_ feeling better.

"After a while you stopped sweating. You just…" Scorp was staring at her with a blank look on his face. "Well, you know."

She did.

The symptoms for that particular phase of the Shivers would make every tormented soul in hell take a step back and re-evaluate their performance. It had taken her months to get used to it in St. Mungo's and she was no delicate flower.

Scorp had put up with it for one, almost two days.

He'd even held the fort when Jesse had offered to take over.

Any sane person would have taken the chance to run the hell away.

He _hadn't_.

"Why didn't you _leave_?" Rose eyed the boy, who was calmly reading his book as if he hadn't spent the past few days coexisting with a screaming lump of flesh. "You rang the New Year _here_? By yourself?"

"What are you, crazy?" Scorp snickered disdainfully at her from his seat. "What was I supposed to do, leave you? Alone? Like _that_?"

"You didn't _have_ to. You could've just called my mum or Jesse or-"

"Merlin, you _are_ thick." Scorp got up to his feet and sat down next to her, giving her shoulders a gentle shove to push her back onto her pillows. He grabbed the duvet and pulled it around her, enclosing her in a warm cocoon. "After you took care of me you just expected me to bail on you?"

"Of course I did. I'd understand."

Truthfully, she would have. It _was_ understandable, he was a bloody _Quidditch Player_ , for crying out loud! He had no business being around sick people. He hadn't sworn an oath. He owed her _nothing_.

The shocking thing wouldn't be him leaving… it was the fact he'd stayed.

"You just have the _lowest_ opinion of me, don't you?!"

There was something fierce about the way he said it that made her flush to the roots of her hair.

"I just-" Rose stuttered. "I don't. I mean, I did..."

Not anymore she didn't.

"You're my _friend_. If I can't even stick around when you need me, what good am I?" Scorp picked up the cup of tea she discarded earlier, gave it a small whirl with his wand and handed it back to her. "Now drink your bloody tea before I smack you."

She did just that, quietly sipping the tea that he'd made.

It tasted _nothing_ like the swamp water she'd been making for the past few days.

"Good girl."

"You really need to work on your bedside manner." Her voice came out hoarse and broken. Rose cleared her throat, aware of an uncomfortable lump that had just lodged its way there. "Tyrant."

"Learned it from the worst." His hand reached over to stroke her hair and for a few seconds Rose could've sworn her heart had given up on beating. "Now get some bloody sleep and we'll see if you're up for eating something in a few hours. Horace brought over soup."

Rose rolled over to her other side and pulled the covers close around her, her eyes wide as saucers.

What the hell had just happened?

* * *

Her breathing had finally fallen into a slow, steady rhythm.

Scorp scowled at the red haired figure peacefully slumbering on the couch, blissfully unaware of the hell she'd put him through in the past thirty something hours.

He gave himself a mental pat on the back for managing to look her in the eye and wondered, for the millionth time, why anyone in their right mind would choose to do this for a living.

The truth was he _had_ considered leaving.

Not only that, he had been perfectly content to.

He'd woken up from his coma to find one of her bony hands clutching his for dear life. She'd been drenched, the puddle of sweat below her almost spreading to his side.

When he'd tried to wake her up, he had realised he couldn't.

She just wouldn't open her eyes.

No matter how hard he shook her, how many times he cursed, how many names he called her, she was out cold.

It had taken him perhaps a bit longer than it should have to get his senses together and realize that no, she wasn't dead and that yes, she'd wake up… eventually.

And so he did what he knew: picked her up, swapped the sheets, swapped her pajamas (albeit in the dark, closing his eyes shut and dying of absolute embarrassment), stuffed one or two of the yellow vials down her throat and waited.

Riding it out, they said.

He could do that.

He had deceived himself into thinking he had it all under control. He had _really_ thought he'd be ready for the yelling. Rose had warned him over and over again that it would happen. He'd scoffed and dismissed her as being overdramatic.

She _wasn't_ being overdramatic and he certainly _hadn't_ been ready.

The second she'd started screaming like a Banshee, Scorp had showered, put on some real clothes, packed a suitcase and called Yardley begging for asylum. His foot had been halfway out the door, itching to run as far away from this mess as he could.

He'd summoned Jesse Boot, all but ready to hand in the reigns and hit the road, because really, she'd fare best in the future Healer's capable hands, wouldn't she?

Sure, he was annoying and sure, he was fussy but really, between him and Jesse Boot… who was the saner choice? Who would take better care of the writhing, howling mess that was laying on the couch?

Moreover, Jesse wouldn't actually mind taking care of her whereas he'd rather be anywhere but here.

How was he even an option?

Boot hadn't even stepped out of the fireplace before Scorp felt like he'd made a horrible, horrible mistake.

By the time the bespectacled Healer had dropped the armload of multicoloured potions he was carrying, Scorp already knew he wasn't going _anywhere_.

As he watched the man hovering above the screaming mess that was Rose, with his kind smile and his endless good humour, Scorp had become certain of two things:

One: he'd never disliked anyone as much as he did Jesse Boot.

Two: he'd be damned if he was leaving Rose to this overzealous moron.

For starters, she'd go batty. Jesse Boot might be a Healer, but he was the most insufferable person he'd ever met. He was _exhausting_. He'd smother her with kindness.

Secondly it was bad enough that _he'd_ seen her naked, he wasn't about to extend the invitation to the perv show to Jesse Fucking Boot. Boot might share Rose's weird Healer openness about how bodies were just bodies and that there was nothing to be embarrassed about… but Scorpius sure as hell didn't.

It was blatant that the saner choice was him after all.

He'd unceremoniously kicked Jesse Boot and his good intentions out.

He'd picked up a pair of fresh pajamas, gathered all the books he'd gotten at Christmas.

He'd locked himself up in her soundproof room (thank you Al), coming out for air every once in a while to see if she'd finally stopped shrieking.

And then he'd waited it the hell out.


	16. Chapter 16

_Happy New Year and we're back with another chapter! As usual the beta was courtesy of incredibly talented_ _ **TheChirpyWitch**_ _. Considering how_ _long_ _this last one turned out, it's a wonder she still puts up with me (ily)!_

 _Last chapter there were a million super nice reviews for which I'm super grateful, including from some new readers which was like whoa! Also a lot of new subscribers and followers! Thanks so much guys, I really appreciate it, you know I'm a sucker for external validation :)_

 _Chapter 16 is a transition chapter into Act 2 and it was particularly difficult to get out, which is probably why it's so long. From the looks of it, it'll be a while until WS ends and, while I can't exactly predict when or how it'll end (I really don't know myself), I can at least promise that there will be no bullshitty complications thrown in just to make it last._

 _As a sidenote I copied WS over to Ao3 and I'll be maintaining both versions. I've also been slowly reviewing and updating some of the earlier chapters (mostly 1-3), so it's perfectly normal if you notice some changes._

* * *

 **January 3rd, 2028**

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a pain in the arse?"

"Has anyone ever told _you_ that you're the worst invalid?"

"I'm the lowest maintenance patient _ever_ ," she yelled indignantly, her voice cracking. " _You're_ the one who won't stop bothering me!"

The pair of them locked eyes and glared at each other.

It was the new state of affairs in the household: a lot of pointless yelling and arguing over things like food, medicine or sleep. Rose Weasley's running theory was that she wasn't in fact human and that _of_ _course_ she could survive without them.

Scorp now realized why she disliked people fussing over her: she was a big bloody baby and possibly the worst, most difficult sick person in the entire _world_. The most pragmatic person couldn't _help_ but fuss over her because she kept (purposefully) forgetting to take her bloody medicine and to drink her damned tea if one wasn't constantly reminding her about it.

At some point Scorp had given up the reminders. It was _pointless_ to remind someone who didn't want to be reminded and who would downright ignore said reminders.

"I swear to Morgana," he barked, "if you don't swallow this damned potion I'll shove it down your throat!"

"I am bloody _fine_!"

She was nuttier than a fruitcake. A cranky, foul-tempered fruitcake.

If the ever-growing pile of tissues next to her and the fact that her own room _still_ wouldn't let her go in were any indication, then no, she was the exact opposite of fine.

Scorp sat down next to her on the makeshift couch-bed that was _still_ adorning their living room.

He uncorked the vial with his thumb and put on his meanest face. "We're either doing this the easy way," he threatened, handing her the yellow potion, "or the hard way. Which one is it?"

She eyed him with that same petulant, childish look she'd been giving him since he'd suggested she should maybe eat something and, for a few seconds, he was rather concerned he would actually have to force it down her throat.

He wasn't entirely sure he could achieve that without getting his face scratched in the process.

Relief washed over him as she took the vial from his hand.

Small victories. It was all about small victories.

"There." She downed its contents and handed him the empty vial, scowling. "Happy?"

"Exceptionally." He got up to his feet without even looking at her - he wanted to smack her so hard. "See you again in three hours."

She had been far less trouble back when she'd been screaming.

* * *

"Al, you need to come home," Scorp moaned into the MagiTech. "She hasn't the slightest sense of self-preservation. She won't sleep, she won't eat, she won't even-"

How she had even survived thus far would always remain a mystery to him.

"Driving you batty, is she?" Al interrupted him mid-sentence. He sounded amused, the wanker. "I _did_ tell you to come over to Yard's."

"Who the hell would look after her if I did?"

It wasn't like Al was around to do it, the spineless tosser. He was more of a hands-off kind of friend. He was really great at some things, like making sure your shower faucet wasn't leaking and listening to endless complaints about irresponsible nutcases.

However, when it was actually required of him to step up and make sure said irresponsible nutcases lived to see their twenty-second birthday, he was the flakiest, least reliable son of a witch.

"My, my, Scorp, is that _concern_ I hear? I seem to recall a time when you wouldn't give a flying fuck about whether my dearest cousin lived or died."

That had been _before_ she'd become his bloody _friend_.

Unlike Al, _he_ wasn't hands-off. _He_ couldn't just bail on her, no matter how much of a cow she was being. He was invested now.

Merlin, he really knew how to pick them, didn't he?

"Fuck off," he groaned, examining the box of crackers he was holding. "What the hell do I do?"

Maybe if he charmed them into animal shapes she could be tricked into eating them? It seemed to work for small children. Judging by the tantrums she'd been throwing, she qualified as a bloody baby.

"You have two options here," Al started, a smile in his voice, "you can either keep shoveling food into her and hope she doesn't bite your hand in the process _or_... you can do what I do and ignore the fact that she's working herself to a slow but certain death."

"How the hell _can_ you?"

"It's her life, mate." Scorp could practically _hear_ Al shrugging from the other end of the line. "She's entitled to live it any stupid way she wants."

Yes, that was all good and well for Al who had known her since they'd both been in diapers. He was also safely tucked away at Yardley's place, no doubt doing body shots off scantily dressed blondes. If she died however, Scorp would be the one the entire Weasley-Potter-Granger-Delacour clan would go after, brandishing freshly sharpened machetes.

"Can't _you_ say anything?"

"What's there to say? She doesn't actually _listen_. I don't think she knows better, it's just the way she's wired." The other end of the line went silent for a couple of seconds. "She's doing the best she can, mate."

"Al, she keeps forgetting to _eat_. Who the hell _forgets_ to _eat_?!"

" _She_ does. She also forgets to sleep, exercise, take her vitamins and anything that's good for her." Al chuckled, in a 'Oh, Rose' sort of way. "But I can bet you she didn't forget to pay our bill this month."

Scorp knew for a fact she hadn't. Amidst scourgifying after him and changing his pajamas, she'd somehow found the time to owl every single one of their service providers with an enclosed Gringotts order.

"What is _wrong_ with her?"

"She once told me cardio and healthy diets were for other people, not Healers," Al mused. "Do what I say, not what I do kind of thing."

Which was why she reminded _him_ of his potions but couldn't be bothered to take hers.

"But that's, that's..." Scorp stuttered, " _absurd_! I just-"

"Mate, you have five more days of forced leave. Maybe you should stop obsessing about my cousin's self-destructive habits and focus on the fact that you didn't tell your dad about Puddlemere."

There was of course _that_.

He'd been pushing the subject far, far into the deepest recesses of his mind, close to That One Time He'd Missed A Crucial Bat And They'd Lost The Game and under the dusty pile of Embarrassing Teenage Moments He'd _Really_ Rather Forget.

Whenever he thought about going back to work he became downright _queasy_.

"I'm not going to tell him, Al."

"I know, you wanker." There was a small silence on the other side of the line. "I talked to Rose earlier. You know what _she_ whined about?"

"Me?"

"Nope. Didn't even mention you."

"Oh." That was surprising and also a tad disappointing for some reason. " _Really_?"

"Yes. She talked about St. Mungo's and how stressed she is about some upcoming exam or whatever." Al paused for a few seconds, as if waiting for some sort of brilliant conclusion. "She _misses_ it. She _wants_ to go back to her boring paperwork and her sniffling patients."

"Your point being...?"

" _You_ on the other hand haven't _once_ mentioned your job, which leads me to think that _maybe_ , just _maybe_ you don't want to go back…?"

Scorp coughed uncomfortably, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Maybe I don't."

"Which means you _know_ you need to quit and you're bloody pushing it off, you chicken-shit."

"What are you now, clairvoyant?" Scorp stuttered, words failing him. Every once in a while Al was inconveniently insightful. "I don't-"

"You know I'm right, Scorp. Get on with it."

Scorp supposed at some point he would have to. How did one get about quitting one's dream job without feeling like a complete lunatic?

* * *

Al laid down the MagiTech on the counter of Yardley's kitchen and looked around him. The usually spotless kitchen was covered in empty bottles and sparkly, still faintly singing confetti. They'd really gone all out this time, hadn't they?

"What time is it?" Yardley walked into the kitchen in his boxer shorts, rubbing a hand through his dishevelled hair. He looked like shit. "Was that them?"

"Yeah," Al replied, smiling a little at the wretched looking apparition. "It seems Rose is making Scorp's life miserable."

"Predictable. You did tell him to come over, didn't you?"

"I did."

Considering the overall state of the place, maybe it was best that he didn't. Scorp would blow a gasket if he saw this. He'd just start frantically cleaning everything and make _them_ clean as well.

Al wasn't sure his hangover would mix well with cleaning charms. He might really die from it.

"So he's staying?" Yardley opened the fridge and removed the milk carton. He glared at the expiry date and placed it back. "Doesn't want to abandon her, does he?"

Dependable wanker, Scorp was. Wouldn't lift a finger to help a stranger, but would walk barefoot on burning coals for a friend. Funny to think he'd ever consider Rose to be part of that select group.

"Yep." Al smacked his lips, his eyes wandering blindly over the pile of rubbish that had spontaneously grown on the corner of the kitchen since the previous night. "This place is a mess."

"It is," Yardley solemnly agreed, carelessly starting to float a few of the bottles toward the corner. "We should go out for breakfast."

Translation: there weren't any clean plates and Yardley couldn't be arsed to wash them.

"Sure thing."

"We'll clean later."

Translation: Horace would clean later.

"You still haven't told them, have you?" Yardley casually stretched his arms over his head, in an obvious attempt to mask his concern for Al's well-being.

Translation: was Al going to cry and, if so, could he do it over at his own place?

He wasn't an idiot, he knew Yards had been jumping through hoops for the past few days to keep him busy. _Hence_ the endless stream of partying, _hence_ the fact that they'd been having breakfast and lunch in a different city every day since Christmas, _hence_ the hangovers they'd been stockpiling for the past week.

He wasn't sure how much more of Yardley's concern his liver could take.

The envelope still felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket. He really _should_ toss it, but whenever he tried he found that he _couldn't_.

"No."

"Are you going to?"

Al pondered the question for a few seconds. "No."

"Okay."

Good friend, Yards. Didn't feel the need to _talk_ about it like Rose and Scorp would have. Which was why he was choosing to stick around. It wasn't specifically that he didn't want to put up with a sick Rose - though it was a little because of that too, she was rather impossible when she was ill - but more than that, he didn't want to be around them with that stupid card in his pocket.

Because then he'd _tell_ them about the card, and he _really_ wasn't up for that.

Not yet.

* * *

That stupid Christmas card was still bothering him, that much Yardley could tell. Nevertheless, it was hard to tell the difference between heartbreak and a hangover and he'd been working very, _very_ hard to make sure Al was either three sheets to the wind or actively recovering from being three sheets to the wind.

Hopefully Al's internal organs were melting by now and he couldn't think of _anything_ but that.

Yardley racked his mind trying to come up with yet another activity to keep Al busy - maybe they could go to Budapest, that was always a classic. Were the birds in Budapest blondes or brunettes? He couldn't recall.

Maybe to be on the safe side they should go somewhere less _white_. Somewhere where no one had stupid bouncy blonde curls or wore bloody purple pashminas.

Madagascar was supposed to be lovely this time of year.

"How does Madagascar sound for breakfast?"

"Yards, it's almost five p.m. It's bound to be later in Madagascar."

"Brunch, then," he replied airily, tossing a discarded tissue paper in Al's general direction. "Feel good enough to Floo to the Intersection?"

The Intersection was a bothersome piece of magic they'd installed in London somewhere in the past two years. It was supposed to regulate the international floo network but it was simply a tiresome hellhole because now you had to go over and show papers and whatnot, and Portkey your way out, rather than spontaneously flooing to places like before.

It was all rather aggravating. In Yardley's opinion, a few two-bit Death Eaters were hardly worth all this fuss.

Still, it had done wonders for his Portkey stocks.

"I'm alright... I _think_. I may puke when portkeying, though."

For once Yardley felt like he might have enjoyed a quiet day in, nursing his headache and trying to forget the fact that his stomach seemed to be sewn inside out. However, _noblesse oblige_ , and he wasn't going to have Al moping around the way he had been before they'd started this rollercoaster of insane boozing and trashy one night stands.

He wondered if he should accidentally set Al on fire and _burn_ that stupid card.

Fucking witch with a capital B, being the bigger person, waving the white flag and whatnot. Proving to herself and everyone that all was well, that there was no resentment on her side, that she was a bloody emotionally balanced person who could compartmentalize and send bloody Christmas cards to her still healing ex-boyfriend, not a care in the world.

Wishing him a "Merry Christmas" and "Happy New Year" when she should keep hiding in whatever pit of hell she'd crawled out of.

How _dare_ she? Thank Merlin those two were still unaware or they'd hunt her down and fuck her up.

Yardley sure as hell wanted to.

* * *

"You're obsessive," Scorp pointed out as he lugged another pile of books closer to the couch, lowering it to the ground within Rose's reach. "You should be recovering, not working."

"That pile needs to be on the left," Rose instructed, cramming the last animal shaped cracker into her mouth. They'd been so cute and she'd managed to trade her books for it, which was good. Maybe she could finally study now. "That's too far away."

"Swallow before you talk, you heathen," Scorp scolded as he floated the stack of books to the spot on the mattress she was pointing at. "Can't this wait until you're not all-" He looked over at her, his nose crinkling with disgust. "- gross?"

"For the millionth time, I'm feeling _fi_ \- Achoo!"

It would have been far more convincing if she hadn't sneezed in that precise moment, wouldn't it? Stupid body, betraying her like this.

"Yes, I can tell."

And another sneeze and another and another. Goddamnit.

He ungallantly tossed a box of tissues at her, amusement plain on his face. She took a few and blew her nose. Except, of course, that the blowing scratched her throat, which spiralled into a coughing fit and-

Merlin, she really couldn't catch a break these days, could she?

"Look at how _fine_ you are."

"You _do_ know sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," she grumbled.

Except of course it sounded like 'sarcasb'.

" _You're_ the lowest form of wit."

Rose cleared her throat, wincing at the mucus that seemed to be camping in her entire respiratory system nowadays. Stupid Shivers.

How was it fair that he'd been back on his feet almost immediately and she was _still_ nursing a cold?

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Rose glared at him, taking another tissue and blowing her nose again. "Very mature."

"Yes, because _you're_ maturity personified." Scorp took a seat next to her and gently placed a hand on her forehead. Rose could feel herself colouring and scowled back. "You feel a little hot. Did you take your potion? The green one?"

Stockholm Syndrome, that was all this was. She was simply going a little batty from all the soft pillows and lack of mental stimulus.

"Damnit, Scorp, I _did_!" She hadn't. At least she didn't remember taking it, but she wasn't about to tell him that, was she? "Just-" She scooted further away from him, her fingers firmly grabbing his hand and pulling it away from the general vicinity of her face. Not that holding his hand helped, really. "Can't you just leave me alone?"

She would kill for a cigarette. She'd managed to sneak one in the bathroom earlier and he'd practically chewed her head off, the man was like a pig sniffing for truffles. The worst part was that after a week of not smoking, it had tasted like dirt and hardly been worth all the trouble.

Still, whenever Scorp looked at her she felt a rather compelling need to pump her lungs full of smoke.

She really _needed_ to go back to work. Leaving her brain idle apparently lead to her _noticing_ Scorp, and she was having none of that. Boredom Crushes were a serious deal and she wasn't about to start fantasizing about her flatmate just because she didn't have anything better to think about.

She reached out to grab one of her books - Magical Ailments of All Shapes and Sizes - and held it against her chest like a shield, ready to whack away any intruding hands.

"It's just the _one_ day," he scolded, getting up to his feet. "You could read something _not_ Healing related, slow down a little, focus on getting better. You might even _enjoy_ it."

The problem with slowing down was that it was hard to _stop_ , as could be attested to by the fact that not two weeks ago she'd blown off work to spend a night sitting on her uncomfortable kitchen counter, eating cookies and sipping tea with bloody Scorpius Malfoy.

She'd had to practically crawl her way back the next day and it had been _hell_.

"Don't want to," she said, solemnly opening the book and looking at the pages without actually reading them. "Now shoo, I have to study and I just lost a whole week."

Dangerous Bites was looming in the horizon and Healer Horton was what they in the Healing community called a 'bloody wanker'. Like most Healers, he didn't have a single teaching bone in his body and he always made it clear in class that he'd rather be _anywhere_ else, doing _anything_ else.

He liked to ask questions that hadn't necessarily been covered in class or rounds just because he _could_.

Sadistic asswipe.

"What's the worst thing that could happen if you don't study?" He wasn't moving, apparently unaffected by her shooing. "I have Tales of Lost Time in my room, you know?"

Shit, shit, shit.

"Mum gave it to me for Christmas and I already tore through it."

 _Shit._

"It's _really_ good. Come on, darling, you practically campaigned for Tales back in Sixth Year." He wasn't lying, she had. "You're the reason Al got into that hogwash, and consequently why _I_ got into that hogwash."

Begone evil fiend, thou shalt not tempt me.

"Goddamnit, Malfoy, leave me alone." The very words were painful. "I have better things to do."

No she didn't, of course she didn't. Dangerous Bites was her weakest and least favourite subject of the lot and Tales… Tales was love, Tales was life.

The second and third volumes of the series had come out in the past three years and she'd bought them both the very day they'd hit the shelves, back when she had still been delusional enough to think she actually would read them.

They had lain on her bedside table, fresh and untouched until she'd hid them away because she couldn't bear the guilt anymore. Every time she had looked at them it was a fresh reminder of just how much she had changed that she couldn't find the time or mental capacity to read a single, damned book.

And now there was a fourth.

"You'll like it. It really ties all the loose ends together, it's rather nice."

A 'rather nice' fourth book that 'tied all the loose ends together'.

Her fingers twitched and she clasped Magical Ailments of All Shapes and Sizes tighter, as if it were some sort of protective talisman against temptation.

It wasn't working, though.

She _wanted_ it. She yearned to spirit the book away right here and now and just hide under her covers devouring it and all its predecessors.

Unfortunately, she couldn't.

"Can't. Have no time."

She could feel her heart breaking at the carelessness of her tone. As if it didn't matter and she didn't care.

It _mattered_. She _cared_.

"Suit yourself," Scorp got up to his feet, shrugging. "Still, you're missing out. It's very good in that sort of overdone way Clarke does so well."

"Overdone?!" The word tumbled out before she could stop it, a testament to the indignation she was feeling. How _dare_ he?! " _Overdone_?!"

"Yeah, you know how he enjoys going on endless tangents-"

"But that's the beauty of it! He always..."

And there it was again, the amused, smug look. He was baiting her, the bastard. Knowing full well what he was doing and she was falling for it, hook, line and sinker.

"Oh, come on, he _writes_ well, but the info dumps about the setting get old after a while." There he was again, taunting her. Pushing her. "I mean, in the second book-"

" _No_ , don't tell me!" The _horror_. "I haven't read any since Lost Soul so-"

"You _haven't_?!" Now he was also looking at her as if she'd grown a second head. "You pestered every single person you knew into reading it!"

"Yeah, but that was _then_!" Then, when she'd had the time, when reading had been like breathing. "Now I can't just-"

"You can't just _what_?" He was looking at her, eyebrows knit together and a shadow of a smile. "Don't tell me, St. Mungo's has a strict no reading policy whereby you must all be illiterate and-"

"I don't have the _time_!"

Why didn't anyone get it?!

She could feel the anger welling up in her chest, the angry-embarrassed flush creeping up her face.

"Sure, you do," he replied quietly, a grin tugging at his lips. "Right _now_ you do."

"You don't-"

"I don't _what_?" Still with that annoying grin. That grin that had no right to be as charming as it was. "You have a few days until you go back. What's the harm?"

There was something desperate clawing at her chest, something like _want_. She stomped it down and smothered it.

"Just because I'm trapped here, the world doesn't stop spinning!" It was like they were speaking different languages again and she wanted to yell at him. "How can you _not_ understand this?"

"Explain it to me, then. Because you usually just say you don't have _time_ , and that's absurd. It's not like you _sleep_ anyway." He started floating another pile of Healing books over to her, unaware of the fact that she was very close to throttling one at his head. "What could be so important that you can't take three hours to do something you actually _like_?"

"It's called an _exam_?" She wanted to hurt him now. He was trying to _solve_ her in that odious way Al said he did. Poking at her life like it was some fun puzzle he was entitled to screwing around with. "I know _you_ haven't had to pick up a book since we left Hogwarts so spare me the judgemental bullshit."

"Ah, yes, as a meatheaded, ignorant Quidditch Player I can't possibly understand the trials and tribulations you go through on a daily basis." Scowling, he let the books he was floating fall onto the mattress with unnecessary strength, causing the dust on them to rise in an angry cloud. "I am _so_ sorry, Miss Weasley, for _presuming_ -"

"Oh, come on!" Rose lowered the Magical Ailments to her lap. He sounded angrier than he should. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

"Then what _are_ you saying?" He floated the pile of books he'd dumped and passive-aggressively started stacking them straight. "Mind you, use simple words, because otherwise I might not understand."

" _Obviously_ I don't consider you stupid," she spat, scowling at him. "Do you really think I'd bother arguing with you if I did? It's just..." She hesitated. "It's just…"

"What?" He placed the last book and quirked his eyebrows at her, lips set in a thin line. "What is it?"

What was she supposed to tell him?

That everyone around her already had a topic for their Fifth Year Research and here she was, twiddling her thumbs and pretending she had it all under control? That even when she _was_ resting, her brain was going into overdrive feeling guilty and thinking about all the things she _should_ be doing instead?

Fuck that.

"What's the worst that could happen if you don't study today?" His tone softened. He picked up his cup of tea and took a sip from it. Whatever had set him off was gone now and he was grinning at her again. "It's just an exam."

 _Just_ an exam?

Rose stared blankly at him for a few seconds, eyes wide with shock: she really, _really_ needed a cigarette.

Maybe she could tell him she wanted some pudding or whatever bullshit would get him out of the house and she could sneak a cigarette in the kitchen. If she smoked with half her body out of the window he'd never know, would he?

She'd been refusing every offer of food thus far, so she doubted he'd believe she had a sudden craving for pumpkin pasties from some very specific shop on the other side of Wizarding London.

"I can't believe..." She finally stuttered. "It's not an _exam_. It's my _life_!"

"It's a _test_. It's not even your _final_ test, we're in January, for Merlin's sake!"

He didn't get it. What was worse, he _couldn't_ get it.

Some people, like Al, Scorp and Pen had been _born_ with dreams. They'd accidentally stumbled upon whatever their one true passion was from a tender age and chased it with the frantic enthusiasm of a toddler on a sugar rush. They'd nurtured it, by dissecting frogs on the kitchen counter or batting toy Bludgers at their mum's expensive vases or experimenting with new spells on their unfortunate cousins. They didn't doubt for a second that it was what they were made for, their calling crushing any uncertainty that might have arisen.

Rose's so-called vocation had manifested by way of Hogwarts' career counselling and a series of frankly dicey tests with creative and not-at-all loaded questions such as 'would you rather clean owl droppings or brew a naertag potion?'.

In the end Healer was the verdict. There were plenty of doubts, misgivings and often disappointment. There was also an ever-pressing feeling of inadequacy and crippling fear of failure.

Which was why tests mattered. It was why grades mattered. They were objective proof that she was doing _something_ right, that she hadn't in fact fucked up.

Which was something Scorpius Malfoy would never understand.

"Scorp, I'm just going to say this once." If she had to repeat it she might punch him in the face. "If you're going to be my friend you're going to have to accept the fact that my grades matter to me. I _care_ about whether I have an Outstanding or not and I swear, if you have a problem with that, I-"

"Look, there's nothing wrong with _that_ ," he protested, raising his hands defensively. "It's the whole studying until you drop that I have an issue with!"

"You have your drills and batting practice and whatever else you Quidditch Players do," she pointed out. "I have this."

"It's not the same. I do my drills and then I come home and do whatever the hell I _want_. That's the nature of a job," he mansplained, rather obnoxiously, "you have to find a way to keep it separate from your personal-"

"I _have_ to?" She glared at him. " _I_ have to do _nothing_! Malfoy, I swear to Morgana, if you don't butt out of my life-"

"Malfoy?"

That was what he'd extracted from this conversation?

"You're being rather insufferable right now," she replied petulantly. "I think I'm allowed."

"I get that it's your life and that you've put a lot into it but come on, Rose, this can't be _all_ you want for yourself!"

She didn't want anything for herself, not anymore. There was little in the way of long term goals in her life. She could hardly see her future beyond the Dangerous Bites exam.

"Oh, really? It can't?" Explaining one's lack of ambition to a Slytherin was as pointless as attempting to explain the concept of abstinence to Penny Nicholson - all you gained for your troubles were befuddled stares and a series of 'but whys'. It wasn't something they were wired to understand. "Merlin, I'd never considered that before, but now that you've shed light on the matter, like a beacon of hope-"

"Come on, Rose, you know that's not what I mean." He crouched down next to her, lips pursed with concern. He looked so earnest, it was painful. "I'm just saying this is nutty. I haven't seen you read anything other than Healing books since we moved! You used to always have your nose stuck in a book!"

"Yeah, it's shite," she agreed in what she hoped was a soothing tone. "It's supposed to get better, though. Next year there's less classes and tests and just… more research. But until then I can't just-"

"Yes, you _can_ ," he interrupted, shaking his head. "You _can_ give yourself a darned break every once in a while." Scorp got back up to his feet. "Look, I _get_ it, or at least I'm _trying_ to... it just... bothers me."

" _Why_?"

"Honestly?" He visibly hesitated, brushing his fingers through his blond hair. "I just worry. Aren't I allowed to worry?"

"I've been doing this for _three_ years," she protested faintly. "It's not like it's something _new_ or anything."

"It's not," he agreed, his tone soft and his expression guarded. "But that still doesn't mean it's _right_."

"Scorp, we've been friends for all of two minutes." Rose shuffled up to her feet, pulling a blanket behind her. "You can't expect to waltz in and start _fixing_ my life!"

"Why not?" He was still giving her that inscrutable look. "Why can't I _help_?"

"Because there's nothing here _to_ fix." She wanted to close the distance between them, make the obvious discomfort that was growing between them go away. "I know you have a nasty habit of scratching at people's problems until they bleed but I'm fi-"

"Yes, you're _fine_ , I heard you the first ten million times." He set his jaw, raising his hands in defeat and took a step back. "Don't worry, I'm sure I'll eventually grow out of this pesky concern thing of mine."

She'd hurt his feelings. Oh, bloody hell.

"Scorp, just-"

"No, no, it's fine." He shook his head and stalked over to the fireplace. He stuffed his wand into his pocket and grabbed himself a handful of Floo Powder. "I'm getting out of your hair, grab myself some fresh air." He wasn't even looking at her. "You need anything?"

"No, I'm good." Quick say something, _anything_ else to make it right! "Look-"

"I'll be back in time for that greenish potion of yours, so don't think you're off the hook." He finally looked back at her, scowling at her over his shoulder and her stomach lurched. "Be good. Remember to drink fluids, okay?"

She nodded mutely and he was gone in a green flash before she could get another word in.

She allowed herself to sink back down to the mattress and stare blankly at the fireplace, half waiting for him to come back. When a minute passed she realized that no, of course he wasn't coming back. That was her, not him.

How long _could_ Scorp stay mad at her? She'd never had to worry about that before so she wasn't quite sure. Would he still be mad when he came back? What was the best way to deal with him?

Al would know, but she'd already called him twice today and he'd _clearly_ been hungover so she didn't want to push it. Either Yardley had completely lost control of his New Year's celebration or Al wasn't as okay as he claimed to be.

The whole thing stunk of Zara all over.

Rose got to her feet, grabbed a nearby blanket and wrapped it around herself. She picked up the pack of cigarettes she'd hidden under the mattress and grabbed her wand, walking purposefully to the kitchen.

"Give myself a break, geez," she grumbled. "Thank you, Scorp, it never occurred to me that it might be so simple."

What was he thinking? That she was made of free passes? That she could just carve out three hours for herself every day? She hardly washed her hair nowadays because of how long it took, she wasn't about to-

She stopped in the middle of the corridor, and looked over her shoulder in the general direction of Scorp's room. Tales of Lost Time. Tying all the loose ends.

How was that even fair?

She shook herself straight and crossed the distance between herself and her cigarette with swift strides. She perched herself on top of the counter, and cracked a window wide open. The winter cold bit her face and she scowled as she pulled a single cigarette and placed it between her lips.

"Doesn't mean it's _rightI_ ," she mimicked out loud. "Urgh, dopey asswipe."

She wordlessly lit the cigarette with her wand and took a drag, her hands shaking because of the cold. Grabbing the blanket closer to her, she gazed blankly at the hustle and bustle down on the streets.

Maybe she could-

No, of course she couldn't, that would be ridiculous.

It would be opening a precedent and she simply _couldn't_ , not with Dangerous Bites so close.

Not to mention if she cracked, Scorp would think he could always pester her into 'taking a break' and that it would work and she didn't have the energy to endure this kind of frankly unethical dialectic every day.

Bribing her with Tales, how dare he?

Then there was of course Magical Bugs coming soon and, no matter how Choi didn't hate her, she definitely _didn't_ want to disappoint him, especially after how nice he'd been with the whole Shivers business.

If only that asshole Ogden stopped giving her extra shifts and dropping random paperwork on her lap she might- she could-

Who was she kidding, of course he wouldn't just _stop_. And she couldn't say _no_ to him, she was physically incapable of it. He was her senior and she couldn't exactly go about telling him to fuck off, could she?

 _Maybe_ if her mum was dying she could muster the courage, but certainly _not_ because she wanted an extra nine hours to read Tales.

Rose glared at the cigarette she'd been smoking. It wasn't helping her out one bit now that Scorp had left and it still tasted like soot. Maybe it was because she was sick?

Maybe it was the fact that her heart felt crushed. He'd looked so _hurt_. Why had she said that? He was just being her friend, the best way he knew how. In his case that way was pesky and a little misguided but he _had_ been trying. And she'd-

A snowy owl landed on the window sill and shuffled its feathers, shaking off a few wet snowflakes. It eyed her expectantly.

"What are you doing here?" Rose reached out to stroke its head, scratching the feathers with her index fingers. "Are you tired?"

When the owl hooted once and stepped away from the letter she'd been holding, Rose nearly lost her balance and fell straight off the window with the shock.

"For me?" The owl practically rolled her eyes at her, tapping a claw on the letter and fluttering onto her leg. "Are you sure?"

Rose gingerly took the letter, tearing the envelope carefully. She didn't get letters every day - at most she got a text or two, but never actual letters. Every once in a while one from St. Mungo's showed up, but this didn't bear St. Mungo's sygill.

She opened the letter and pulled out a card. Heavy stationary, golden squiggles, the works.

 _Together with their families, Katherine Towler and Jules Mordeaux cordially invite you to-_

Katherine Towler? As in _Kate_ Towler?

Rose shook her head and took a long drag from her cigarette. A coughing fit seized her and she stumbled down from the counter, tossing the half smoked cigarette into the sink and heaving. Her teary eyes went back to the card and she frowned at the impeccable calligraphy.

Kate Towler was getting married… to someone who wasn't Scorpius Malfoy.

 _Weird_.

* * *

"It's going to be _wild_ ," Al shouted, waving his envelope with giddy joy. "Not at all like that stupid Yaxley's wedding, I thought for sure I was going to die from all the pureblooded _glaring_."

Yardley looked from Al to the identical cards they were holding in their hands, a grin growing on his face. Finally a worthy distraction.

They had been sitting on a rather fetching veranda in Lima, Peru - Al had been right, it was practically dinnertime in Madagascar - overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the sun shimmering on the sea. So far, instead of appreciating the view and scarfing down his brunch as he should, Al was looking a bit green around the gills.

That card had been like a balm, turning the tide around and making him more himself than Yardley had seen him for over a week, since that _other_ stupid card had arrived.

Funny to think of the power of a few lines of text.

"Katie Towler getting married," Yardley mused, taking a swig from the margarita glass he was holding. "Who's the feller?"

"No idea," Al said, placing the card down on the table and shovelling a handful of bacon into his mouth. _Finally_. "Scorp didn't mention she was seeing anyone and you know he _would_."

Ah, yes, Scorp's personal gripe with anyone Kate dated was rather entertaining at dinner parties. The boy got really vicious about her suitors, it was hilarious.

"She _always_ had an appalling taste in men, though," he laughed, pouring Al a glass. "Exhibit A, Scorp himself."

"You're part of that list, Yards, my boy," Al pointed out, chuckling.

"Not true," Yardley protested, though he did feel a little smug. "We only went out to Hogsmeade a few times, it hardly counts."

He wanted to point out that Al was _also_ a part of the roster, but that would imply diving further into the matter and that meant slamming head-first into a wall of Zara.

He wasn't about to go _anywhere_ near that topic.

"Yes, and the moment Scorp so much as smiled at her she discarded you like yesterday's trash and went right back to him," Al pointed out.

Yardley scowled. "She discarded _everyone_ to go right back to Scorp." Yardley twirled a fork between his fingers with a thoughtful look. "Those two were batty about each other."

They'd been batty alright, breaking up and making up every other day. He'd never really quite understood why they'd broken up for good, especially considering the fact that they still got on like a house on fire. Best chums, even.

"Who the hell is this Jules anyway?" Al asked, scowling at the card. "I don't remember any Jules Mordeaux in Hogwarts."

"Sounds french. Beauxbatons?"

"Maybe…? I'll have to ask Louis about it, he'll know. And if he doesn't, Dominique will for sure."

They had bigger concerns than who Jules was, but he was glad Al wasn't making the connection. After all, Kate had been good friends with Al's bitch of an ex.

Kate _knew_ right?

If she was inviting Al that meant she couldn't possibly invite _her_ , could she?

She couldn't. She _wouldn't_.

 _Right_?

* * *

"Rose?"

Oh dear Merlin, what now?

"In the kitchen!" she yelled, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and haphazardly flinging it into the nearest cupboard, banging the door shut. She had just finished scourgifying the three cigs she'd thrown in the sink - judge her all you want, she was nervous and she hadn't smoked in _days_ \- when in walked Lily Potter in all her frenzied glory.

A single natty orange homemade cloth bag hung from the redhead's shoulder. She was wearing a fluorescent yellow jacket, which she was currently trying to disentangle herself from. Under it was a not-much-better purple shirt, which clashed oddly with the green on her pants. Lily had a tendency of either looking like she'd gotten dressed in the dark with clothes she'd fished out of a garbage dump or like she'd spent five hours pondering about her fashion choices, according to how much mental energy she expended on it in the morning.

Today, apparently, it was the former.

"Oh, you're up!" Hobo Lily gave her an appreciative once over. "You look thinner. Are you on a diet?"

Merlin save her from the walking disaster that was Lily Potter and her absolute lack of tact.

"I was _sick_ , love," Rose replied, trying to curb the smile that was threatening to grow on her lips. "You know, Shivers?"

Trust Lily to _not_ know about it. She could see it now, the entire Weasley clan talking about it for an entire five hour Saturday lunch and it going in one of Lily's ears and out the other.

"How lucky for you!" The girl tilted her head and looked at her for a few seconds before she started promptly removing and stacking a series of tupperwares from her bag - which apparently was not only natty but also bottomless. "I just wish, I'm a stomach complication away from reaching my goal weight. After Christmas too, so well timed!"

Lily always spoke in a breathless sort of way, managing to cram a thousand words between each inhalation, as if there wasn't really time for them. Unlike Rose she didn't talk fast because she was nervous or anxious, she did it in a fruitless effort to keep up with her accelerated mind. Sometimes, like now, that mind only spewed nonsense. That tended to cause some people who didn't know her to think Lily Potter was a complete and utter ninny.

They were _wrong_.

If only the world could speed up to meet her, she'd end world hunger and cure cancer before she'd even had her morning coffee.

"If you want I can sneeze on you," Rose offered dryly, taking a few cautious steps toward Lily and peering at the boxes. "What are those?"

"Nan told me to bring these over for Al," Lily explained, frowning ever-so-slightly at one of the containers. "Is this zucchini?" She looked over at Rose with a confused look which then brightened into a hopeful grin. "Is Al going vegetarian too?"

"Not that I know of." Rose's eyebrows quirked at her cousin, her lips pursing together as she tried to keep a chuckle inside. "He's not _here_ either."

"He _isn't_?"

"Lils, I swear-" She looked over at the multiple boxes, filled with what she was pretty sure were several vegetarian concoctions up to the brim. She could practically _sniff_ the vitamins from where she was. "Are you sure these are meant for Al?"

Al would rather die before he ate any of these. According to him, if it didn't come with a side of bacon, it wasn't proper food.

"Well yeah, Nan made extra so I was supposed to bring them with me. She also said something about Al, though come to think of it I'm not entirely sure _what_ she said, I wasn't really listening, because I was thinking about work-"

Rose rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead and inhaled. Obviously, her cousin had managed to tune out whatever Grandma Weasley had been saying and pieced out the conversation afterwards, which explained was why Lils was here, carrying a truckload of vegetarian food that was obviously meant for _herself_ , not her chronically carnivorous sibling.

"- did I tell you I'm interning at Dervish and Banges? It's rather hellish but the hours are good and they have this rather silly filing problem. I expect to have it all sorted next week-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Rose managed to stutter out before Lily started going into another of her tangents. "Weren't you at Ollivanders?"

She really couldn't keep track of Lily's CV and she was sure all of Wizarding London was as puzzled as she was. Lily had been trying out a series of potential career options since her graduation, none spanning longer than six months. She left in her wake a trail of confused yet extremely uncritical employers who would vouch for her as hard-working, competent, proactive… even if she _was_ a little all over the place.

Somehow, they all spoke of her fondly and she'd _never_ been fired.

"Oh, no, that was last month… or was it last week?" Lily's pretty face contracted into a thoughtful frown. "Yes, two weeks ago, before Christmas. Or was it after...?"

"What _happened_?" Rose was aware her jaw had slackened and closed her mouth shut.

Quitting right before-or-after Christmas was the Lily-est thing. It was scatterbrained and thoughtless and just _thinking_ about it made her want to go find a paper bag and breathe into it.

Lily herself? Lily was _fine_. Any concerns she might have, she seemed to _laugh_ them off her life, never letting silly things like financial stability or what people might think of her get in the way of whatever it was she wanted to do.

"Oh, nothing," she replied dismissively, cracking open one of the rabbit food containers she'd brought over and eyeing it critically. "I sorted out their Cherry Wood suppliers and finally found the thing that wasn't adding up in their books from the first two quarters. I wasn't exactly _needed_ anymore."

She watched as her cousin absent-mindedly walked over to the cupboard she'd stuffed her cigarettes in. If there was something Lily might give her trouble about, it was hiding her cigarettes in a cupboard, like a damned addict.

"Like, Arithmancy was never my strong suit so it took me a while longer than I'd expected but I'd been meaning to quit from day one. They only hired me because of dad anyway."

"So you _quit_?" Rose's breath was caught in her throat and she scrambled, trying to distract her cousin from the pack of cigs staring right at her. "Again?"

"Yep. I was _bored_ , you know?" She didn't have to worry apparently. Lily just looked through the cigarette pack and picked a plate, never ceasing her tireless monologue. "Wasn't for me. Anyway, I was saying about Dervish, it's not _just_ the filing that's all wrong, they don't exactly have a _method_ for anything and I-"

She doled out the contents of the container onto the plate and heated them up, never stopping to catch her breath, even as she non-verbally Accio'd a fork from one of their drawers.

"- honestly, I don't know how they survived this long without going under, the place is chaos and the brothers who own the shop are well-meaning idiots-"

Rose was all but ready to kick up a fuss when Lily presented whatever that vegetable medley that was in front of her - out of principle, obviously. After all if she'd refused food from Scorp, she'd be damned if she was taking it from Lily.

However Lily did no such thing.

Instead, she placed the plate smack dab in front of herself, apparently making herself comfortable for a mid afternoon snack.

"- I'm _half_ -sure one of the employees is stealing from the cash register. Her name is Jess and Merlin, she _looks_ like a Jess, like, you have _no_ idea-"

A comforting smell wafted toward Rose and she felt her stomach grumble. Between the smell and Lily's familiar chattering, the kitchen now somehow reminded her of The Burrow, of Gobstone games and lemonade in summer… even though it was peak winter and she was now sure what was on the plate was vegetarian lasagna.

Rose wasn't sure how Lily could keep up the stream of conversation with the plate still untouched in front of her. She felt like her stomach might at any moment jump out of her mouth and help itself off Lily's plate if she didn't start eating soon.

It was _criminal_ to leave it there, soggy and forgotten.

"- but I can't prove it, you see, and it's wild because I've been there a week and I don't know how anyone hasn't noticed it before. It's driving me a little loony if I'm honest-" She looked sweetly over at Rose, who was practically drooling all over the counter. "You want some?"

Rose's hands were already reaching out and pulling the plate toward her before Lily had the chance to finish her kind offer - which, considering just how fast Lily talked, was a rather prodigious feat. Lily handed her the unused fork she'd been holding - holding, not using - and rested her chin on her hand with an amused look.

"Good, right?"

It had been only after the first bite that she'd realised she had been actually starving.

"Nan'sh cooking is alwaysh the besht," Rose replied, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. She swallowed and sighed. "Almost tastes like the real stuff, too."

" _Right_?" There was a small glint to Lily's eyes. "It's quite lovely. How are you holding up?"

"You know, locked at home with Scor- Malfoy." Rose corrected herself, frowning a bit as she shovelled a forkful into her mouth. Ah, dear cheesy delight. "Not echactly the besht."

"Is he being an arse? I can have a chat with him if you'd like…?"

"Nah." Rose swallowed, rolling her eyes. "He's alright, he's just-"

Worried.

Something inside her ached at the concept and she stuffed her face full of peppers and zucchini and whatever else was hiding in the cheesy sauce in a desperate attempt to distract herself.

"That's good," Lily said, nodding approvingly. "I thought you'd be at each other's throats by now. I mean, I thought it was odd when you didn't spend five hours complaining about him at Christmas but I figured-"

"We're…" _Friends_. Rose choked, and not because of the lasagna. Somehow she couldn't quite bring herself to say the word aloud. "We have declared a cease-fire of sorts."

Why was she _embarrassed_ about it?

"Is Al thrilled? You two playing nice is his dream come true, I'm sure."

"Wouldn't know," she replied truthfully. "He's been away for a while."

"He was going a bit off his rocket a few weeks back when you two were having a wild fight-"

Trust Al to babble to Lily. Probably James too.

"- and anyway I'm glad you two sorted it out because you know how he runs and hides when people fight around him. Neither James or me have an uncontrollable impulse to disapparate whenever anyone so much as breathes at us funny so I really don't know where he got it from… Oh, before I forget-" Lily stopped her ramble and pulled her bag toward her. She stuck her hand on the inside and fumbled for whatever it was she was looking for, her face scrunched up with concentration. "Ah, here it is. Penny gave me these."

"Penny? Are those notes?" Rose instantly recognized Jesse's meticulous, almost girly handwriting on the first page. "Did she say what about?"

"Probably," Lily replied indifferently, sliding the stack of parchment over to her. "I wasn't really listening, like, I sort of tuned out when she started talking Healing gibberish. What I _do_ know is that St. Mungo's needs a better coffee machine. No wonder everyone there looks depressed."

It was a good half hour after Lily left before Rose's dazed brain finally caught up with what had happened and she realised she'd been played like a damned fool.

When a couple of minutes later she walked over to extract her cigarettes from the cupboard she found a single Smokeefree potion laying in its stead.


	17. Chapter 17

**January 10th, 2028**

Beep.

What the fuck?

Beep.

Scorp groaned under his covers, pulling the sheets over his head. His eyes were still firmly shut, his consciousness desperately grasping at the dream he'd been having. It involved a lot of flying and batting and Bludgers whistling and…

Beep.

What _was_ that stupid sound?

Beep.

And why in Merlin's name was it happening in the middle of the night?

Beep.

Gritting his teeth, Scorp buried himself further and further into his warm cocoon and desperately tried to ignore the beeping, which was only growing louder and sounding more and more like _honking_ with each passing second. A vice of anxiety and annoyance squeezed at his chest as the ringing persisted, ever louder, ever closer.

Beep. Beep. _Beep_.

Just when he was about to completely lose it, Scorp heard the door to his bedroom clicking open. There was the sound of rushed steps coming into the room and, after a few moments of pacing and a few colorful expletives, the ringing stopped.

Sweet Circe, silence.

 _Finally_.

He felt his bed sinking and cursed under his breath as he felt what was undoubtedly someone sitting on the bed next to his curled body, pressing lightly against his back.

"Scorp…?"

Rose's voice. Of course it had to be her, why wouldn't it be?

This had to be some sort of cruel joke.

"Go _away_ ," he groaned, turning under the sheets to give her back a half-hearted shove. She didn't budge. "Can't this wait 'til morning?"

"It _is_ morning," she quipped from outside his fortress of blankets. She sounded _amused_. "You're late."

The very concept was absurd. He'd never been _late_ in his entire life.

Every single day since he was six, Scorp had woken up about five minutes before his alarm went off. He would then shower, get dressed, fix himself a cup of tea, pick up his paper and dive into his crosswords. Granted the crosswords and the tea were a more recent acquisition, but _still_ , we were talking about a habit that had run his mornings for _fifteen years_.

Like bloody clockwork.

"I'm not _late_ ," he snorted disdainfully, before resuming his listless pushing of what he could only presume was Rose Weasley's ass. "Now go _away_."

The bed shifted as she got up and Scorp breathed a sigh of relief: she was leaving. Now if he could only fall back asleep, he was guessing he might get one or two more hours-

Without warning, the top of his sheets were pulled down and Scorp found himself glaring into a pair of laughing blue eyes.

"Unless Puddlemere abides by a different time zone than the rest of England, you're _definitely_ late."

She was wearing her blue scrubs under the customary white Healer robes. More than that, she was grinning in a way that was both bewitching and more than a little terrifying.

If there was one thing Rose Weasley was not, it was a morning person. She was not the sort to walk around with a smile on her face when she woke up. Even on a good day, the best you would get from her was an ill-tempered grunt and a great deal of scowling.

Today, however? She looked _happy_.

And for some reason, the sight of her grinning face first thing in the morning was doing all sorts of horrible things to him. She was still leaning over him with her grin and her slightly wet curls, smelling of familiar lavender and vanilla and-

Him. She smelled of _him_.

Was that his shampoo? Had she _pinched_ his champoo? The same stuff that cost a billion galleons on the market because it had dragon scales and fernberry root and a series of other unspeakable ingredients designed to make sure his hairline didn't budge?

"I _can't_ be late," he scoffed, snagging his blankets from her grasp and half-covering his face again, trying to focus on… anything else really. "I'm _never_ late."

Unfortunately, hiding under the covers didn't make the scent go away and he was still terribly aware of the fact that Rose did in fact smell _like_ him.

"New experiences are said to broaden the mind and yours sure could use some broadening," was the dry retort. "Your alarm was kicking up a storm and driving us mental. I'd never heard it before, it's horrible. Like a goose being choked."

The reason she hadn't heard it before was because, every single day, five minutes before the Damned Thing had a chance to ring, Scorp was already up and going about his life. Heck he'd had it for years and this was the first time _he'd_ heard it.

"After a while we figured we should check if you were dead."

"If only," Scorp replied, groaning and burying his face in his pillow.

"From the looks of you, we weren't entirely off-base," came Al's voice from the door. Scorp shifted slightly to look at his best friend, who was leaning against the doorframe, a steaming cup of tea in hand and a thoroughly amused look on his face. "You look like you've been run over by a herd of Thestrals."

" _Are_ you alright?" Rose looked over at him and Scorp self-consciously brushed his fingers through his blonde hair in an attempt to smooth it over.

"I'm-"

"He's dandy," Al interrupted, sipping his tea with a nonplussed air. "He's just delaying the inevitable because he's a wuss."

"Oh!" Rose looked over at Al and frowned. "Is today the day?"

"Yep."

It was Monday.

 _Shit_ , it was Monday!

Monday was the fateful day he was supposed to walk into his current place of employment and somehow turn it into his former place of employment. The details of exactly _how_ that was going to happen were still a bit fuzzy in his mind. He had spent most of the night tossing and turning as he tried to justify to himself dumping _his_ team, the one he'd cherished for all of of his natural life, for the _Magpies_.

The mere thought of it still made him nauseated.

A heavy dose of rationality was required for this and Scorp had always had that in spades. The only problem now was smothering and murdering the pesky, sentimental bit of him that was still so firmly attached to the idea of him playing for Puddlemere.

The carefully constructed order in his life was being blown asunder... and he was the maniac casting the Confringo.

Scorp sat up on the bed and brushed a frantic hand through his hair which did nothing to soothe his fraying nerves.

Oversleeping, Merlin, how did people do it? What was wrong with them? Why would they submit themselves to this nausea willingly? His mouth tasted like sandpaper and he was pretty sure… yep, his back hurt.

He glared at the pair of idiots chatting amicably on the other side of his room, unaware of the maelstrom of confusion going through him.

"Is that tea?" Rose walked over to Al and threw his cup an envious look. "I'd sell my own mum for a cup."

"Kitchen. I made one for you and another for Sleeping Beauty over there," Al replied, wrapping his free arm around her for a brief second and giving her an affectionate squeeze. "Though by the time he gets to it, a newly evolved species may be swimming in it."

"Have I mentioned you're my favourite cousin?"

"Considering the competition, it's hardly surprising."

Rose brushed past Al, cheerfully scurrying off to go fetch the promised cup and Al stood hesitatingly under the door frame for a few seconds before stepping inside and closing the door behind himself.

"I've known you for ten years and you've never overslept. Not once," he started, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Not even that time we got so narked we spent half the night looking for the flat because we couldn't remember where we lived."

At this point, Scorp had gotten up to his feet and was standing very still, a hand still buried in his hair as he tried to sort himself out.

What now?

Shower? Was it worth showering? Should he just get dressed?

Al sighed and laid down his cup on a nearby cabinet. He placed a hand on Scorp's shoulder, gripping it tightly. "You done beating around the proverbial shrubbery?"

The single point of contact had a grounding effect on him and Scorp schooled his features into a small smile. "I still can't believe I'm doing it. I know it's right but it feels so _stupid_."

"It'll be _fine_." Al's voice was smooth and steady. "You only need to go in, say you quit and walk out."

Al said it like it was simple, a three step roadmap.

Unfortunately that was not how life worked, you couldn't just Floo in, scream 'I quit' and then Floo the hell out - well fine, technically you could, but that wasn't how he wanted to deal with this.

Contacts were everything in the Quidditch World and he desperately needed to keep his close.

Urgh. _Networking_.

There were going to be questions, possibly some pleading. There were papers to sign, settlements to discuss. Conversations with his coach about what an utterly stupid decision this was, while they both tried to ignore that Scorp's career was dead in the water.

The terrifying bit was that, with enough cajoling, he suspected they might be able to talk him out of it. He had let himself become so beggared in terms of approval that if they threw a raise at his head, empty promises and a few kind words, he might just completely crack.

This was what came out of being completely and utterly unprepared. He had come up with very little in the name of arguments other than 'the pay is better' and 'the owner doesn't hate me', and he had no intention of using the latter. And he _still_ didn't know what to say if people pointed out the fact that the Magpies were stationed in fucking Scotland or, better yet, the fact that they were _shit_.

Because it was _true_.

"What do I _wear_?" The words stumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. His disrupted routine was like a knife twisting into his insides. "What on earth does one wear to quit one's job?! Is there a standard?"

"Anything but those stupid pajamas." Al looked him over and shook his head. "Merlin, you can be such a girl sometimes."

"What do I _say_?"

"Two words: 'I' and 'quit'." A smile grew on Al's face. "I'd go with you and hold your hand, but I have a meeting in half an hour."

"What do I do when-"

"Mate, you need to snap out of it," Al groaned, letting go of Scorp's arm and opening his wardrobe. "I know it's killing you that you don't have a plan and a fucking color-coded binder detailing every single possible course of action, but sometimes you just need to face things head on and roll with the punches."

What a stupidly Gryffindor thing to say.

Al went on opening and closing drawers, pulling a pair of boxer shorts here, some socks there and all in all running through his clothes like a hungry dragon rampaging through a helpless village.

"What are you _doing_?"

"Getting you dressed, since apparently you don't remember how."Al tossed a shirt at his head and started fumbling at his pants hangers. Scorp swallowed and tried his best to ignore the fact that Al was crumpling everything he touched inside. "On the off chance you locate your balls and _actually_ quit, you can come over to Gringotts." He threw him a pair of pants, which Scorp managed to intercept before they hit him in the face. "We'll grab lunch, jump scare some goblins… It'll be like it never happened."

Great, so now he had plans for _after_ he quit, but still no plans for the actual quittance.

"But it _will_ have happened." Scorp shook his head. "I'll be _unemployed_."

The very word was terrifying beyond belief.

"Yes, for all of five minutes," Al sniggered, picking up his cup of tea and sipping it with a grin. "Then you'll call Gwen and you'll employed again. Profitably so."

Shit, Gwen.

In his dogged attempt at sorting his frazzled mind he hadn't even returned her calls, putting the matter off until he was sure he would have the gumption to actually quit. The last thing he needed was her frankly Machiavellian rhetoric worming its way into what was possibly the first real problem of his life.

She was going to skin him alive and have his hide turned into a pair of those extremely uncomfortable shoes she wore.

There was a small knock on the door. "Are you decent?"

Scorp rolled his eyes. Surprisingly polite for someone who'd seen him buck naked a week back.

"Yeah, come in!"

The door opened the slightest bit and Rose tentatively peered in. When it became apparent to her that there were no naked hijinks happening, she swung the door open.

"I need to rush off." There was a St. Mungo's ID hanging from her neck and she was shuffling nervously, obviously itching to go back to her work and suicidal lifestyle. "I just wanted to say good luck. I know it's shit but..."

She fell silent for a few seconds, chewing her bottom lip and eyeing him as if trying to figure out something.

"Put us out of our misery and go already, ginger." Scorp scoffed as he looked her over. "You've talked about nothing else for days and I for one can't wait until-"

Shit, she was walking over. _Deliberately_ so.

"- you're out of this place..."

His voice trailed off. Before he knew what was happening, Rose had crossed the distance between them and carefully snaked her arms around his torso. The smile he'd been wearing was wiped clean off his face: she was _hugging_ him.

Holy Quaffle, Rose was hugging him.

His arms hovered over her shoulders for a few seconds and he threw a panicked look at Al, mouthing a silent 'what the fuck'. The brunette boy, who was watching the exchange with a combination of interest and amusement, merely shrugged as if to say 'you're on your own, mate'.

Scorp took that as a sign that he was in fact allowed, maybe even _supposed_ to hug her back.

How exactly was he supposed to do that?

Gingerly, he allowed himself to wrap his arms around her, praying to every deity that she wouldn't break or explode or something along those lines.

Instead, she seemed to relax under his touch and Scorp was finally able to breathe again. A rogue hand tugged ever-so-slightly at the back of his pajama shirt and he grinned, daring to rest his chin on top of her head and closing his eyes. She still smelled like his shampoo and Scorp could feel his heart doing a small Scottish jig at the thought.

It was like she _belonged_.

Shit.

"Chin up, Malfoy," she said, tilting her head to look up at him and giving him a small smile, apparently oblivious to the havoc she was wreaking in his chest. "It's a bright day out and it'll only get better."

When she said it, Scorp almost believed it.

Just as his mind had finally wrapped itself around the idea that Rose Weasley was in fact _hugging_ him, she stiffened against him and Scorp's breath caught in his throat again, worried he'd done something wrong.

"Fuck, I need to leave," she cursed under her breath, her gaze affixed to his alarm clock. "Good luck!"

And, like a tornado, she was gone, leaving only wreckage in her wake. Scorp was left gaping at the door she'd just stormed out of.

What the hell had just happened?

"You have the stupidest look on your face right now," Al pointed out, giving Scorp a pat on his shoulder. "I wish I had a camera to mark the event for posterity, Yards would've loved to see it. So would my dad, your dad, my cousins, my uncles… though we'd have to gloss over the fact that you actually touched her or they'd have your stupid looking face on a spike."

"What…" Scorp shook his head, still dumbstruck. "What was _that_?"

"Rose's personal brand of moral support." Al said it as if it were something normal. "Congratulations, even my trainwreck of a cousin thinks you're pathetic."

"What does that even _mean?"_

"Exactly what I said. It's her thing, y'know?" Scorp was sure he _didn't_ know. Al sighed. " _You_ offer unrequested advice and try to find solutions for people's problems. She hugs people."

" _What_?"

For some reason he felt like he was repeating himself.

"She's _worried_ about you, you git," Al enunciated slowly. "It's something she does."

"This is something she _does_ ," Scorp repeated drily. "She randomly hugs people and tells them they'll be alright?!"

"She doesn't hug _everyone_ ," Al corrected, looking almost offended for his crazy cousin, as if the fact that she was particular about whom she hugged made any difference. "Just people she likes."

Correction: it _made_ a difference.

She _liked_ him.

They'd spent a week at each other's throats. After Lily had come by - he'd had to call for backup and if there was anyone capable of dealing with Rose, that person was Lily Potter - things had been better. Still, he hadn't been exactly trying to be _likeable_ , what with threatening her to wring her neck if she didn't take her potions and everything.

And yet... she _liked_ him. She liked him enough to bestow upon him her weird and surprisingly comforting hugs.

"Stop mooning about my cousin and get dressed, you ponce," Al scolded, walking over to him with renewed energy and pinching both his cheeks in a way that was both painful and heartwarming. "Merlin, you're slow today. Try not to get lost on your way to the fireplace, for goodness' sake."

"You're a git, you know that?"

"Speaking of gits," Al said, letting go of his cheeks and chuckling darkly, "Yards has ten galleons riding on you being a flaking arsehole."

 _Of course_ he did.

"Yards is a wanker," Scorp replied with a small smile.

" _I_ , on the other hand, am the blooming idiot that bet him you wouldn't." Al walked to the door and, just before stepping out, turned back to glower at him. "And I swear, if you chicken out, I'm tracking your pasty arse down and making _coq au vin_."

* * *

Despite Al's repeated assurances that everything would be fine, it _wasn't_ fine.

From the moment he had stepped into the Floo, things had become a bit better on his end. He'd finally slipped out of his small bout of Analysis paralysis and finally faced the music. The sight of his locker, with its nicked corner had smacked him into decisive action and he had firmly, if not even pointedly, quit the job he'd been dreaming of having since he'd been made aware of jobs were.

The rush of his assertiveness was short lived.

Four hours later Scorp was still sitting on a chair as people screamed all around him.

* * *

They were sitting in a small cafe in the middle of the Scottish Highlands, which was where Gwen had told him to meet her after describing in excruciating detail how she was going to shove one of her incredibly pointy shoes up his rear.

When he'd gone up to the Intersection and spent half an hour waiting for a portkey, he'd been a bit peeved, thinking life would become incredibly shittier from this point on.

He would have gladly put up with endless commutes and feeling like his stomach was being held in a chokehold twice a day every day for the rest of his life if it had spared him from the alternative, which was apparently... _not_ having to put up with it at all.

"What do you mean the position has been filled?!"

"It means it took you more than a month to get back to me," Gwen shrieked back, her face flushed with anger. "I called you a million times over Christmas and you never picked up!"

Scorp was only half-listening. The sense of dread that had just gripped him was infinitely worse than anything he'd felt this morning. He'd been scared, sure, but it paled in comparison to whatever it was that he was feeling now.

"I don't…" His lips quivered ever-so-slightly. "Do you mean…?"

His muscles tensed and a wave of cold sweat whipped him across the back, leaving him breathless as it finally hit him: he was _unemployed_.

That was why she'd insisted they meet.

Not because she had papers for him to sign so he could start his brilliant career and win a billion Cups, not because she had missed him and wanted to catch up, not because she wanted to tear him a new one for not answering her calls… because he was now _jobless_.

"It's all very hush hush, but two days ago Erin Bailey suddenly became available and Brandon Dixon jumped at the opportunity to bat with her," Gwen spat, hands still shaking from her previous outburst. "You remember _Brandon_ , he was the fucker who batted with you on that friendly match."

Right now he wouldn't be able to tell you his own name, much less drum up enough mental capacity to remember Brandon Whatever-The-Hell-His-Name-Was.

The new ten year plan that he'd spent all morning carefully constructing from the cluttered debris of his life was now burning to ashes in front of his very eyes. If he tried hard enough, he was sure he would be able to smell the smoke coming from his scorched dreams.

Scorpius nodded mechanically as he continued to face the anger that was exuding from Gwen's every pore.

"He's a mediocre wanker at best, yes, and I promise you I did _everything_ in my power to stop them, but two players beats one and the team gelled with them and..." She paused, shaking her head and then snapped again, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Fuck, Scorp, I had them eating off the palm of my hand and then you stop answering your fucking MagiTech and it all goes to fucking shit. I swear to Merlin, if I had known you were going to flake on me-"

He buried his face in his hands and stared blankly at the table, droplets of cold sweat dripping from his brows.

"- I have better things to do with my life than calling you a million times because you can't be arsed to answer a single call and-"

He closed his eyes, tuning Gwen's voice out.

 _Unemployed_.

Without warning and like a manticore had stumbled teeth first into him, the first wave of nausea hit.

 _Unemployed_.

"Scorp?"

It was like he was being smothered, like the room was suddenly a bit too hot and his shirt was a bit too tight and-

Shit.

Now he couldn't breathe.

Lovely, just lovely.

"Scorp!"

He _really_ couldn't breathe.

This was ridiculous, absurd really. One didn't just stop breathing but holy fuck, he really _couldn't_.

Why couldn't he breathe?!

His hand instinctively searched for his wand and he grasped it tightly, his eyes still firmly shut. He needed to be gone, anywhere but here.

 _Anywhere_ else would be fine.

"Scorp." A warm hand grasped his own and gently removed the wand from his grip. "Look at me and breathe."

Two hands now, cupped around his face.

"Look. At. Me."

He tried to smack them away and the hands only gripped tighter, forcing his eyes open to look into hers.

"Breathe," she ordered, her voice smooth like melted butter. "Come on, Malfoy, in and out, in… and out… that's it. In… and out… A few more times."

Out of the corner of his eye, Scorp could see someone approaching the table and his chest tightened. Gwen's eyes were fixed on his face and she scowled as she followed his gaze, turning to face the newcomer.

"No, sir, kindly fuck off, don't you dare come any closer," she growled. "In fact if you can all stop gaping like fucking idiots…"

And then she was back on him, her voice his only tether to sanity.

"Ignore those tossers, breathe… in… and out..."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later he was glaring at the cup of tea that she'd laid in front of him and feeling like a complete dolt. A few people sitting at other tables were still throwing them curious looks, clearly hoping for an encore, and Scorp kept his gaze firmly affixed to his cup.

"Happens to the best of us, mate." She said it matter-of-factly and Scorp for one was glad they weren't making a big deal out of it. "I've lost count of the number of times some green player nearly wet themselves on their first big game."

"I didn't _wet_ myself," he snapped back.

"No, you just forgot how to breathe, like the massive boob you are."

"Are we done here or do you want to continue pointing out what a wuss I am?"

"I don't think you're a wuss," she replied slowly , twirling the glass of firewhiskey she was holding in her hand. "I get it, I've been there myself."

"Yes, I'm sure you have," Scorp scowled. "What with the great house, that darling girlfriend of yours and the dream job, I really don't know how you hold yourself together every day."

"Merlin, you're prickly as a porcupine today."

"An _unemployed_ porcupine," Scorp corrected. "I wonder why that is…?

"I've been jobless too, y'know?" Gwen scowled back. "I remember how terrifying it is."

"Ah, but _you_ quit!"

"So did you. Very daringly, I must say."

Like the crazy fearless person she was, Gwen had quit with no prospects and no plans. Reckless and wild was fine for people like Gwen, who enjoyed living by the seat of their pants.

It _wasn't_ fine for people like him.

"That's only because I thought there was another job waiting for me!"

"Yes, I know, and I _am_ sorry."

She didn't add 'though it's all your fucking fault you ninny', which he appreciated, since he still felt a little green around the gills whenever he thought about it.

"I'll try to keep that in mind when I'm living out of a cardboard box, I'm sure it'll be very comforting."

"It's not ideal and I know it's a shitty feeling, not knowing what you're going to do…" Gwen seemed to be struggling for the words. "And honestly, it only gets worse with time."

"I sincerely doubt it."

How much worse could it get really?

"Stop being a self-pitying wanker and hear me out: find _something_ else to do while I sort this out. _Anything_ else. If you just stay home scratching your balls, you'll end up feeling all sorts of worthless."

'Worthless' was a bit of a strong word. He didn't think he'd ever feel 'worthless', thank you very much. He was a Malfoy and, despite his parents' best efforts, his ego was still uncommonly inflated for his age group.

"You mean another team?"

If he were being completely honest, any team would do right about now. He'd even join the bloody Chudley Cannons, which was something a player only did if they were keen on committing career suicide.

Not that what he'd done was much better.

"I mean washing _dishes_ if that's what it takes," Gwen replied fiercely. "I did for a while and it kept me from going batty."

Gwen didn't often talk about what it had been like for her after she'd quit Puddlemere. He knew she'd been adrift for a couple of months before being scooped up by the Magpies, but she didn't _talk_ about it.

Which was odd, because Gwen talked a _lot_.

"I promise I'll find you something else, something equally good…" Gwen stopped mid-sentence and and frowned for a second before a slow grin curled up her mouth. "In fact, you know what? I'll find you something _better_."

"Nepotism at its finest." Scorp picked up his cup of tea and toasted her. "Did you have anything in mind?"

It was rather obvious that she did. Her grin had sharpened into something ferocious, the war face she put on whenever she came in close contact with a broom. There was something a little insane about her eyes.

"I do, it's just… _complicated_." She hesitated before practically purring the word. "I'll have to figure a few things out first. Pull some strings, kiss a few wrinkly arses, move one or two mountains..."

Scorp rolled his eyes. Incredible how so many words could hold so little meaning. "How _long_?" he asked, hoping at least this way he'd get something concrete.

He _needed_ a plan or at least some vague simulacrum of one.

"A month or two at best." Gwen scowled, as if remembering something. "Maybe a couple if things get… problematic. How's your emergency fund?"

Ah, yes, his 'emergency fund'. His 'emergency fund' was essentially the three months Rose had forced him to save 5%, a.k.a, a pittance.

"Remember that cardboard box I was talking about...?" Scorp's lips pressed together humorlessly. "Maybe I can go back to Puddlemere, beg them to rip the papers. I literally _just_ signed them, I mean-"

" _No_." Gwen stood up in her seat and glowered at him. "I swear, if you go back I'll _never_ speak to you again, you spineless wanker. Get a job waiting tables, move back with your parents, whatever you do… just… _trust me_."

That was all good and well for her to say, but waiting tables sounded _horrible_ and moving back with his parents?

Out of the question.

"Do I look for other batting jobs while you're off pursuing this unlikely miracle of yours?" he drawled, sounding a lot like… shit his dad. Which in turn reminded him of his dad's receding hairline, which in turn reminded him...

Holy hell, he was going to have to start using subpar shampoo. Not only would he sound like his dad, he'd start looking like him too.

The _horror_.

He was fucked, wasn't he? He was going to end up a bitter, balding fifty year old barman talking about how, back when he was young, he had _almost_ made it as a Quidditch player.

"Obviously you start looking for jobs," she sniggered. "And if a team you fancy offers you a position, you snag it with both hands."

"But then why wouldn't I try to get my job back?"

He knew why, he just needed to hear it said out loud by someone else.

"Scorp, you quit Puddlemere because you weren't _happy_ ," Gwen retaliated. "And the reason you weren't happy hasn't changed just because you bloody quit. You'd still be benched and making less money than you would if you were cleaning fucking owl droppings."

He could go back but then he'd spend the next ten years of his life bitterly wishing he could set Andrew Bell on fire.

He'd never win the Cup.

"But I could still _fly_." The words caught in his throat and Scorp gritted his teeth. "How can I quit _flying_?"

"Get a job as a Flight Instructor, fly on weekends, call me up and use me as a Bludger target…" Gwen's voice trailed off and she grabbed hold of both his hands, squeezing them with excitement. "Look, if my intuition is right, this could work. It could really, _really_ work!"

"How vague."

Her enthusiasm was _almost_ contagious. Unfortunately, she wasn't giving him nearly enough to go on.

He needed something tangible and right now the only thing tangible about this conversation was the cup of tea he was holding.

It wasn't even _good_ tea.

"I'm not _promising_ anything, especially on such short notice… which is why you should still look around. If you find a team you like, I'll be thrilled." The fierce glint in her eyes returned and she grinned wildly. "But if this works out… fuck, I'll tell you right now, if this works out, _I'm_ quitting."

"You." Scorp quirked an eyebrow at her, disbelief evident, his grip tightening around the cup. " _You'll_ quit your job."

"Yep."

"You _love_ your job."

"I do. But-"

Scorp rolled his eyes. From what she'd said it was easy to make at least _some_ basic deductions.

"Are you planning on starting a new team?"

"Not… _exactly_." She hesitated for a second and Scorp scowled. "But it's something along those lines."

Several new teams had been birthed over the past few years, each and every one dying a premature death after only a year or two. They didn't have the funds, they didn't have the name, they didn't have the fans.

And here was Gwen Vane, thinking she could pull it off. Foolhardy and ill-advised, of course she'd be all over it… and she was asking him to _trust_ her? It was all sorts of crazy.

It was also a lifeline.

"Who else would you hire?"

"Not telling."

"Who would coach it?"

"Not telling."

"Where will you find the money to bank it?"

" _Definitely_ not telling you."

There was an infuriating and slightly manic grin on her face and Scorp's frayed nerves finally snapped.

"What _will_ you tell me?!"

"At this point in time?" There was a tinge of insanity to her laugh. " _Fuck all_."

* * *

 _Well, here we are. -_-; Sorry it took me so long to have the gumption to actually post this. While it's slightly different from what I'd written two months ago, it's only SLIGHTLY different, which means I spent sixty days putting this off._

 _Scorp reaching the inevitable conclusion that he needed to quit his job, no matter where his loyalties lay, was hard to write. Harder even to write was the shock of him realising that the structured life he has been building for a while had gone up in flames. Honestly, I was kind of scared of how you guys would react because for most of you, this is probably not what you signed up for. Hell, it's not what I signed up for. If I re-read the first two chapters, it feels like a completely different fanfic but they all grew so much in my head that I couldn't just keep on... idk, playing the fluff. So now we're playing the angst a bit, see how that goes for Witch Slap._

 _I've been planning this for a while now, and I've been putting it off, but there's a series of future chapters already written which are fun and light-hearted and all that goodness... but we can't get there if we don't take this pit stop of vague anxiety and stress._

 _Tell me what you think! Review, subscribe, favourite, follow, bookmark, kudo, whatever floats your fanfic loving boat!_


	18. Chapter 18

**January 10th, 2028**

Rose had spent the past ten minutes running the simulation in her head, while she waited in line.

 _'Good morning, I'd like a cup of coffee so strong that it'll melt my oesophagus,'_ she'd say.

 _'Sure thing, dear,'_ they'd say.

She'd then walk away with a cup of coffee that was as hot as hell and as stiff as death.

Mission accomplished.

Unfortunately, Reality had a way of ruining things like that: when it was finally her turn, Rose only managed to get out, "Good morning, I'd like" before It intervened.

"Blueberry Latte Girl!" The cute, silver haired barista who had recently started working at St. Mungo's cafeteria gave her a smile. "I got you!"

 _'No, you don't!'_ , she wanted to scream.

"Uh… hmm… okay?" was what she stuttered instead, like the _idiot_ she was.

The girl's dazzling smile was so bright that Rose's first impulse was to shield her eyes from it. The best she could muster though was beaming back, because, somehow, it seemed like the only reasonable option under the circumstances.

What the hell was _wrong_ with her?!

She would just firmly and politely correct her and-

"Haven't seen you around lately," Cute Barista said, as she floated a single blueberry muffin onto her tray. "Christmas holidays?"

That was when all remaining bits of Rose's resolve simultaneously keeled over and died.

Lattes and muffins be damned. Cute Barista had noticed her absence. Cute barista _cared_.

"Shivers," Rose said, shrugging helplessly. "House arrest."

"You say house arrest, I say holidays!" The barista winked and scurried off to pick her latte. "You lot work too hard anyway." She gave her wand a few flicks and charmed the foam into a pumping heart that exploded into a million frothy bubbles every few seconds. "There you go."

Rose stared at it for a few seconds.

It was _adorable_.

She met the barista's smile before picking up the tray and retreating to the safety of her table, where Jesse Boot was waving at her.

"So today's still not the day, is it?" Jesse asked, pulling his tray closer to him to make room for hers.

"Nope." Rose placed the tray on the table, eyeing its contents with aversion. "They're all so _nice_."

Not only that, they were indoctrinating the new hires in their rotten thoughtfulness as well. Cute Barista had hardly been here for a month and she already knew her as 'Blueberry Latte Girl'.

She took a defeated sip off the watery, pitiful excuse for a coffee. A shudder crept up her spine as the sweet goop slogged down her throat.

 _Urgh_.

It was still as horrible as the day before. And the day before that. And the day before the day before that. And…

You get the picture.

"Give it here." Jesse gave her a pitying look as he took the muffin and the latte from her hands like he did every single time. "Why don't you just _tell_ them? It's a breakfast order, not a personal insult."

She couldn't, really.

"Don't start with me, Boot," Rose groaned, burying her face in her hands. "It's too early."

"She won't die if you tell her you want that nice, fluffy banana bread instead."

"But I don't _want_ that nice, fluffy banana bread either!"

" _I_ might," Jesse grumbled, though not unkindly. "I'm sick and tired of blueberry muffins."

Rose's grim gaze met Jesse's earnest blue eyes and she scowled.

"I kid, I _kid_. Here, before you bite my head off," Jesse said, picking up the piping hot mug of coffee in front of him and handing it to her. "It's just _so_ absurd."

Her eager hands took the mug from him, grasping it as if it were her first born.

"What's absurd?"

"The fact that one minute you can look at me like I'm beneath the vile worms that turn bodies into compost and the next you're too embarrassed to tell a barista you'd like a coffee to go."

"I'm not _embarrassed_ and sometimes you're just insufferable," Rose grumbled, taking a sip from the coffee. Sweet Circe, that was _good_. "Mrs. Knight and the rest of them aren't."

"In my book they are," Jesse said, his nose wrinkling as he took a bite from the muffin. "A particularly insidious, low-key sort of bully. Preying on innocent victims and stuffing them full of lattes and blueberry muffins."

It wasn't any of their fault, really. The very first day of her internship Rose had turned up, fresh faced and bright eyed and had gingerly and painstakingly picked a latte and blueberry muffin from the endless menu. She had felt like a grown-up and so she'd ordered what she thought a grown-up Rose might order.

It had all been for the aesthetic really.

The next day Mrs. Knight had remembered her and her order. Rose had felt so pleased and validated that she had said yes, of _course_ she wanted another latte and sodding muffin.

Cut to three and a half years later and this was the result.

What was she supposed to do now, tell them that she hated lattes and muffins? After all this time?

Not a snowflake's chance in hell.

Jesse eyed her for a few seconds and wisely changed the topic. "How are you doing for Bites? Did you get my notes?"

Ah yes, the Dangerous Bites exam from hell that Healer Hodge was gracing them with next week. It wasn't enough that they had the residency every day for eight hours, no, they still had to keep up with Egypt's Ancient Myths and their stingy, chompy bits.

 _'It gets better'_ , they'd said.

 _'You'll remember the residency as the best time of your life'_ , they'd said.

They were bloody liars, that's what they were.

"Lily brought them over. If I don't sleep for the next few days I might just pull it out of my ass," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "You're not looking concerned. Why are you not looking concerned?"

Maybe because Jesse Boot was the sort of balanced person who slept every day, even if he just took a nap. Jesse Boot was also the kind of balanced person who was capable of saying 'no' when asked to take an extra graveyard shift, or extra paperwork, whereas she...

Let's just say if Hodge asked her to learn the can-can and perform it on her underwear in front of all of St. Mungo's staff, Rose would have just asked what colour he'd like her knickers to be.

"While you were gone, _I've_ been pursuing some interesting rumours about... Hodge slacking off with fourth years," Jesse said, lowering his voice. "According to Pogey, who took fourth year Bites two years in a row, both years' questions were very... _similar_. After I cross referenced it with a few older Healers, the conclusion I've reached is that yes, dear old Hodge has in fact been recycling exam questions."

Rose stared at him for a few seconds. She blinked once. "Are you telling me..."

" _Yep_." He gave her a smug look as he downed half the latte. "Those notes I gave you are very, _very_ specific."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I shit you not, my dear," Jesse said, leaning back against his chair and throwing her a beatific smile. "You might be able to get some sleep after all."

"And you're only telling me this now, _why_?" Rose didn't know if she should laugh or cry. "It's the best news I've had all year!"

"It's hardly a triumph, considering the year started ten days ago and you've been sick and locked up with that prat for the duration of it," Jesse pointed out drily. Apparently Jesse was as fond of Scorp as Scorp was of Jesse after the Shivers debacle. "Plus, I wanted you to take it easy for a few days, rather than obsess about your proposal."

Because studying took her mind off it. It was so thoughtful and convoluted that Rose found herself staring at him for a couple of seconds, not knowing what to say.

"Yes, yes, you love me." Jesse pushed his glasses further up his nose, his face turning an interesting shade of beet red with embarrassment at his own joke. "It's good to have you back, y'know? Without you around to keep her in check, Penny's been ten times more obnoxious."

"You could just tell her to fuck off," Rose suggested, a small smile on her face.

"You could just tell Cute Barista you want a coffee, black as your soul," Jesse said, rolling his eyes. "But none of those things are going to happen anytime soon, are they?"

* * *

Rose hummed under her breath as she made her way to her Magical Bugs rotation. Two weeks of being home had left her feeling rested and refreshed and the breakfast with Jesse had somehow only intensified that spark of… wellness. It was a pleasant, albeit completely alien feeling. That along with the news that Hodge was lazing with the exam questions... life was good for once.

At the very least, it was _easier_.

She was still obviously going to study like a lunatic, because that was just who she was. Rose trusted Boot's infallible gut up to a reasonable degree, but there was a more cautious side of her that told her it couldn't possibly be _that_ easy. Hodge might have had an urge to review the exam questions precisely this year and...

Still, for once she might actually take her time and _learn_ things instead of shoving them in her brain and hoping they'd stick. She appreciated that more than anything, the possibility of studying _well_ rather than just studying.

The karmic leveler came faster than she expected, as she stumbled upon Odgen and his impossibly sour face on the hallway. He actually seemed to perk up at the sight of her and, for a second, Rose actually deceived herself into thinking he might be happy to see her, relieved for her sake even.

"Ah, Miss Weasley," Ogden said, giving her a calculating look that told her he was feeling nothing of the sort. "Feeling better, are you?"

"Yes, I-"

"I'm so glad I caught you," he interrupted, not even letting her finish. "I've just been called over to Scotland - they're having a fascinating panel about Healing Ethics and reviewing whether we should be aiding our fellow Muggles fight cancer and whatnot - and there's a series of reports that need to be filled in ASAP."

He pointedly stared at her for a few seconds and Rose struggled to find the words to turn him down. "Well, I'd be delighted to help but-"

"Splendid!" He placed an arm around her shoulder and turned her around, herding her in the general direction of his office before she knew what was happening. "I can't tell you how invaluable your assistance is-"

For the second time that morning, Rose found herself swallowing a stiff cup of depresso.

"- you're an absolute gem in this place, everyone else is just so keen on shirking their duties -"

Rose nodded dumbly, hating herself for the small bit of her that was beaming at his praise. Much like Cute Barista's acknowledgement of her existence, Ogden's flattery was something she had no defences against.

"- not to mention I can always count on you to make sense of the unintelligible notes our fellow healers leave. Ah, here we are!"

He opened the door for her to enter before him and stepping in shortly thereafter, circling his desk to pull a series of clipboards and stacks from the desk in front of him. "Half of these should be ready by lunchtime, I think-" He glanced over at the clock on the wall. "Better make that noon, you know how Aspen gets when she doesn't get her charts in time for rounds…"

Rose mutely allowed him to pile up a series of papers on her arms. She was vaguely aware of a separate, almost remote part of her screaming with indignation… and she shut it down in order to hear the endless list of instructions he was spouting about each chart.

There was no way she was worming her way out of this now. If she was being honest with herself, her fate had been sealed the moment her and Ogden's eyes had met.

After he was finally done, she only asked, "Noon you said?" because what else could she do? Say 'no'?

She really needed to learn to walk with her eyes on the damned floor.

"Yes, Miss Weasley," he said, half smirking at her. It was an odd thing, to see the man producing a smile - both terrifying and a little rewarding. That stupid panel must have meant a lot to him. "You're so dependable, you've been sorely missed."

And Rose smiled back and nodded, wondering to herself how exactly she was going to face Choi after having ditched the first rotation she'd had for two whole weeks. It wasn't like she could blame Ogden - she should have told him, in no uncertain way, to shove those clipboards up his arse.

Unfortunately, much like Jesse would let the people he loved walk over him, she would let anyone she didn't know well walk all over _her_.

* * *

"You saw Malfoy _naked_?! Oh, sweet, _sweet_ Merlin's graying bottom please tell me _all_!"

Rose nearly choked on the coffee she was sipping. She looked around to see Penny Nicholson practically skipping over, her Cheshire grin ever present.

"And speaking of bottoms…"

"Talk louder, will you?" Rose hissed between gritted teeth as she grabbed Pen's arm and pulled her into a nearby supply closet, closing the door behind them. "I don't think the whole of London heard you!"

"Ah, so you _have_ seen Malfoy in the buff," Pen replied smugly, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial tone. "I thought Boot was blowing it out of proportion, as usual. What was it _like_?!"

Ah, damn, she'd all but admitted to it.

Rose tossed her coffee cup into a nearby bin and nervously started thumbing through a neat stack of forms on one of the shelves. If anyone walked in, at least that would help project the illusion that they were indeed working and not in fact talking about how her flatmate looked in the nude.

"Mostly sweaty and gross," Rose replied, pointedly avoiding looking at the brunette, which was rather fruitless considering Penny was so close she was practically hugging her. "You know, Shivers."

"I meant his _penis_ , Rose."

Oh, _Merlin_.

It was one thing to happen upon a penis in the wilderness, as one often did in their line of work. Another thing entirely was for one to entertain thoughts of specific penises on one's free time.

"I'm not going to talk to you about Malfoy's…" Rose practically choked on the word, pushing the image away from her mind. "Nope. Not happening."

Focus, Rose. Anything _but_ Scorp's-

"C'mon, you're a Healer, you can say penis," Pen scolded. "Or dick, or wang, or-"

"I don't need a thesaurus, you bint! I'm _still_ not going to tell you about his penis, dick, wang, whatever!" Rose interrupted, deliberately turning to scowl at Penny, whose grin was probably hurting her cheeks at this point. "Healer-Patient confidentiality."

"I call _bullshite_ , Weasley. From what Boot told me, you were as much his patient as he was yours." Penny tutted, a hand on her heart with mock sentimentality. "Playing Healer, oh my. He told me all about how your knight in shining armour-"

Jesse Boot had better watch his back because if she ran into him today, he was _dead_ , no matter how many times he saved her from those disgusting lattes and muffins.

"Fuck off and stop fantasising about it. It was awful and sweaty and gross and that's _that_."

"The world is very, very unfair." Penny pouted while still somehow managing to look like a malicious imp. "Had it been me-"

"You'd have what, whispered tender nothings in his ear as he barfed?"

Knowing Penny, she might have.

"No," Penny admitted, her shit-eating grin never faltering even for a second, "but at the very least, like the good friend I am, I'd give you a _detailed_ account of his bum."

Rose sighed and tried to push the mental image of Scorpius Malfoy's arse away from her mind. The only problem with that was the fact that thinking about his bum was far better than the alternative, which was thinking about his grin.

His bum was fine, sure, but that cheeky smile of his made her go a little weak at the knees. It didn't help that he was becoming so liberal with giving it away either.

She wondered if he would be alright with quitting Puddlemere. In ten years she'd never seen him looking so frazzled as he had this morning and-

"You're _thinking_ about him," Penny cried in a sing-song voice, hugging her from behind and tugging them left and right in a weird, improvised dance of sorts. " _Tell_ me!"

What was there to tell, really?

That it had taken her months, _years_ even, before she'd come to appreciate Scorpius Malfoy's bum?

That meeting his grey eyes made her chest feel _just_ a little tighter than it should?

No, thank you. She'd rather _die_. Pen was already insufferable. If she actually admitted to anything, anything at all, there would be no end to her obnoxious, _knowing_ grins.

"There's nothing _to_ tell." Rose stuck to her guns and scowled. "He's still as pasty as he ever was, and so is his bum."

Ah yes, _lying_. Lying was good.

Rose just wished she was better at it.

"Woman, are you _blind_?!"

She wasn't, of course.

He'd always been cute in that blond sort of way, but he'd also been a complete asswipe. She might have a lot of flaws, but it was a personal point-of-pride to her that she had _never_ been attracted to asswipes, no matter how cute their butts looked.

Now, however, he wasn't just a good looking asswipe, he was a person.

A person who had stuck with her through yelling and sweat and vomit. A person who charmed crackers into animal shapes for her sake. A person who tried to get her to take breaks and read books she liked. A person who cooked and cleaned for her.

Rose was suddenly possessed by a very strong desire to shield him from prying eyes, to keep that little flicker far, _far_ away from Penny.

"Can we _please_ stop objectifying my flatmate?" Rose replied in the steadiest voice she could muster. "We can talk about something that's not boys, you know? Where's your feminism?!"

"Feminism schmeminism," Penny scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "I'll march for my right to show my tits all you want... _after_ you're done telling me all about your flatemate's pasty bum."

"How's your proposal treating you?" Rose asked, in a daring attempt to change the subject to something that wouldn't make her cringe when she reviewed the conversation later. "How did Thatcher take it?"

Lies and misdirection, of course. If she threw enough sand in Penny's eyes, maybe she'd forget about Scorp's arse.

Doubtful, but it was worth a shot.

"Peachy. Thatcher approved our initial draft. He was rather thrilled about it, and it was such garbage." Pen's hands dropped from her shoulders and she gave her a long, hard stare. "It's such a waste. You're living with two of the dishiest men I know and you don't even care."

"In my defence, Al's my _cousin_."

"Yes, and if I had a cousin that looked _that_ good I'd jump his bones. Turn that incest into wincest."

Rose just stared blankly back at her.

Wha-

How-

Just… there were no words.

"You could bounce a quarter off his arse, you know? And by 'you' I mean 'me' and by 'quarter' I mean-"

"Pen."

Amazing how a single word could convey such disappointment and condescension with just the smallest whiff of annoyance.

It was also incredible just how much she sounded like her mum sometimes.

"Eesh, fine," Pen protested, throwing her hands up . "You're _far_ too serious today. Are you sure you're well enough to come back? You could stay at home a while longer, no one would think less of you."

After three days of being stuck inside the house it had felt like she might die of boredom. After two weeks she'd been climbing up and down the walls. She'd been so eager to return to this, to the frantic, fast paced environment of her day job that she'd practically skipped all the way over this morning.

"Eh." Rose gave a half-hearted shrug. "Resting is overrated."

"What are you doing, then?"

"Ogden dropped a mountain of paperwork on my lap." Rose scowled. "I hadn't even been back for a whole hour and..."

"Did he now?" Penny's smile was wiped clean off her face. "You don't say."

"Yeah. I'm not even sure how I'm supposed to sort it out by noon."

In fact, she wasn't sure she even had time for this conversation. She'd just stepped out to get herself coffee from the dispenser before she'd been ambushed by Pen and now she'd lost what, ten minutes of priceless time?

"Mmmhmm," Penny hummed, a thoughtful look on her face. "Tell you what, I'll help."

"Really? Don't you have Clinic today?"

Out of all of them, Penny was the Clinic's biggest fan. She'd grown up with Muggleborn medicine and medical shows and she viewed wizarding medicine as something cute and curious but not dramatic or _real_ enough for her. She had latched onto Thatcher like fleas on a dog and was currently paving her way to a brilliant and bloody career.

"Fuck Clinic." The brunette wrapped an arm around her shoulders and opened the door for them, herding Rose away from the supply room. "I was thinking about cutting anyway."

Penny Nicholson suddenly saying she wanted to skip Clinic wasn't _natural_.

" _Why_?" Rose touched the back of her hand to Pen's forehead, feeling a mix of worry and amusement. "Are you dying?"

For a few seconds there was no reply and Rose dropped her hand to her side, eyebrows furrowing.

"It's just… I haven't seen you this rested in months," Penny replied, gently placing a hand on Rose's head and ruffling her hair. "It's nice."

"What does _that_ have to do with anything?!" Rose swatted Pen's hand away and gingerly brushed her fingers through her curls trying to fix the damage. "Are you quite alright?"

"Quite," she replied, her usually grinning face scrunching into a frown. "I'm just saying it suits you, not being all… dead inside."

"Gee, thanks."

"Come on. Let's go through Ogden's shite so we can get on with our lives."

* * *

There were floating charts all around and at least four quills writing simultaneously. While Penny's penmanship was pretty much illegible for anyone who didn't work at St. Mungo's, she wrote faster than Rose and between the two of them, they had done quick work of the charts, reports and exam requests.

They'd even spotted one or two mistakes in the Potion dosages being administered and had triumphantly Owled the Healers in question.

All in all, a productive morning.

"Ah, Miss Weasley," Healer Ogden said, pushing the door open. He was holding a series of folders and charts which he undoubtedly intended to drop on her table. "Are you done?"

"Yes." Rose, who was just finishing penciling in the last few characters, offered him a weak smile.

 _Please don't give me those, please don't give me those, please-_

Penny Nicholson cleared her throat, smiling sweetly at Healer Ogden. "Healer Ogden, it's lovely to see you."

"Miss Nicholson."

"How was your panel?"

Rose recoiled. She _knew_ that tone. It was the tone Penny used before she completely lost her shit.

"It was good, there were a series of topics we don't talk about enough-"

Rose watched with horror as the brunette got up to her feet and started accioing the charts and files before handing them to him, with perhaps a tad too much brute force.

"Thank you, Miss Nicholson." He took them, awkwardly juggling them with the ones he'd been holding and looked from Rose's stricken look to Penny's widely defiant one. It was painfully obvious who the weak link was between the two of them and Rose braced herself for the inevitable. "Miss Weasley, I was hoping you could-"

"Hoping she could what, Healer Ogden?" Her tone was pleasant enough, along with the ever present shit-eating grin. And yet there was a bite to her voice that Ogden hopefully hadn't noticed. "Take care of that paperwork, you mean?"

 _No_. Bad Penny.

"Why, yes. Here-" He started unscrambling the paperwork, handing it over to Penny. "It's only a couple of forms-"

"You are of course aware that Rose had rounds this morning with Healer Flemming, rounds that she couldn't attend because of… _this_."

That was a blatant lie. Rose didn't have any Pediatrics rounds scheduled with Flemming for another two weeks, courtesy of her little Shivers stint. But since they both knew Ogden didn't actually care enough to know her schedule, Penny was apparently making it up as she went.

"You didn't tell me that, Miss Weasley. Of course I would have-"

"And of course right now I'm supposed to be in Clinic and Rose is supposed to be on her way to Dangerous Bites."

"Well then, she should have _told_ me, now, shouldn't she?"

Healer Ogden had one of those foul-tempered faces when he wasn't angry. He now looked like he might have an apoplexy.

"Well… I..." Rose could feel her knees growing weak as she met his eye and stuttered out an unintelligible response. "Erm… You see… I..."

"With all due respect, you never give her a fucking chance to," Penny scolded, her voice rising as she stepped back into Ogden's line of sight, drawing the fire. After one or two seconds, she added a thoughtful "Sir," as if that might make any difference.

Penny, you brave idiot. You stupid, stupid _idiot_.

"What she means is-"

"I know what she means, Miss Weasley," Ogden fumed, pulverising her attempt at diffusing the situation. "Miss Nicholson, I know you think yourself untouchable but just because someone in your family offered St. Mungo's a new ward it doesn't mean-"

Wait, what?

The Thaddeus Nicholson ward was named after someone in Penny's family?

How did she not know this?

"That's of very little consequence here," Penny deflected, clearly embarrassed by the association. "But her mum _is_ the Minister for Magic. And her dad _is_ Ronald Weasley. And her uncle _is_ Harry Bloody Potter."

Clearly Penny had problems with flaunting her own family name but she wasn't beneath flaunting hers.

The cold pit of dread in Rose's stomach grew until she was certain it would swallow her whole. Hell, she _wished_ it would.

"And of course there's Ginny Potter. And I know for a fact that they've been missing her at family dinners and whatnot. What _exactly_ do you think they might do if they knew half of the time she spends here is because you keep-"

"No, Penny, just…" Rose stuttered, grabbing her arm and digging her nails into Penny's fleshy arm. "I'm so sorry Healer Ogden, she's probably a bit feverish, just-"

"Shut up, Rose," she hissed. "I _know_ what I'm saying."

"Do you really, Miss Nicholson? Because it sounded an awful lot like you want to get suspended, along with Miss Weasley."

"No." Rose's heart sank. " _No_."

"Rose, for Merlin's sake, calm down," Penny said, sniggering. "He doesn't have the authority."

Well that was new information. Rose's eyes met Ogden's and she raised a single eyebrow. " _Don't_ you?"

"Of course not, he just made Healer what, eight years ago? He's a self-important -"

"You are of course aware that I'm still here, Miss Nicholson?"

"- arrogant, _lazy_ ass. Of course I am, Healer Ogden," Penny said, gently patting Rose's hand for comfort which Rose really appreciated because she was feeling a little faint. Confrontation at the workplace was something she was only too keen on avoiding and here was Penny, shattering the veneer of civility into a million little pieces. "And if you know what's damned good for you, you'll stop dropping your shite on Rose or I swear to Merlin-"

"You'll do _what_?"

Penny wordlessly dropped Rose's hand and she circled the table until she was standing inches away from him, arms crossed defiantly in front of her chest.

"Well, Miss Nicholson?"

"Well, Healer Ogden, I might feel tempted to tell everyone _all_ about last year's Christmas Party." Penny watched with satisfaction as his eyes widened with shock and his usually grayish looking face coloured. "That's _right_ , you remember. I remember. I'm so _glad_ we all remember."

Rose felt like she was a mere spectator in one of the most dramatic and terrifying scenes of her entire life.

She daren't breathe.

"So now that we're clear about all this, move along," Penny said, self-importantly opening the door and presenting it to Ogden, who seemed a bit too stunned to come up with a proper response. "Go pester some other intern. Hell, Sauvage will be thrilled if you drop these on him, you two will get along famously."

The second the door closed Penny sagged down against it until her butt hit the floor. She hid her face between her hands. " _Shite_."

Rose walked over to her, unsure if she should give the brutal girl the hug she so rightly deserved. The usually cool and collected Penny Nicholson, force of nature looked a lot like she was… hyperventilating. "What… just... _happened_?"

"I don't know, by the end I was just babbling," Penny said, laughing weakly. "I just know he thinks I have a ward named after me, when my very Muggle parents have never even set foot in St. Mungo's."

"Wait, what?!"

" _Yep_."

Penny Nicholson had balls of steel, that was what she had.

Rose let herself fall down next to her, floored both literally and emotionally. "So all that was just… bluffing?"

"Well, not the bit about last year's Christmas Party." Penny let out a high pitched laughter, her stress finally seeping into her chuckle. "That was the only ace I had up my sleeve. It could've just as well turned out to be a deuce."

"What happened last year at the Christmas Party?"

Nothing really ever happened at the St. Mungo's Christmas Party. They were all boring, stuffy affairs, full of nodding and hand shaking and ass kissing.

"I shagged him, of course," Penny explained matter-of-factly, like shagging senior Healers was something she did every day.

In Penny's case she might be. Rose suspected the only reason she didn't know about this was because her first impulse was always to stick her fingers in her ears and go la-la-la whenever Penny launched into one of her _incredibly_ detailed accounts of her flings.

"Pen, he's..."

"Married, I know. Jesse told me a few months ago," Pen said, resting her head back against the door with a smirk. "If it's any consolation I only _suspected_ it at the time."

Oh, Penny.

Penny, Penny, _Penny_.

"I was going to say ancient but… but now _that_ too! Just… _why_?"

"Honestly?" Penny shrugged. "I was drunk and he was there."

Rose lips pursed into a thin line.

As far as horrible shagging choices went, Rose couldn't exactly judge Penny. Her pre-requisites for a one-night stand were, similarly to Pen's, alcohol and physical presence... though she'd never been addled enough to actually shag someone twenty years her senior or who shared her place of employment.

 _Yet_.

"So you just threatened his marriage to get him off my back?"

Rose didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

"Well yes. Though A, I wasn't sure if he was already married at the time, B, I wasn't sure if he'd care and C, I'd never actually do it, you know." She sniggered and brushed a hand through her long black hair, giving it a flick. "I don't kiss and tell."

"Pen, you do." Rose winced and brushed a hand through her own mop of red hair, though there was no flicking of any sort - just anxious tugging. "Often in excruciating detail."

"Not to his wife I wouldn't."

"It's bad enough that you slept with him."

"Oh, darling, we did a lot more than just sleeping," Penny purred, the Cheshire Cat grin returning. "He's not half bad either."

"And you're telling me this _why_?"

"Honestly? I'm nervous." She showed Rose her shaking hand, that incredibly steady hand she'd been training since she'd been ten and she'd decided she'd rather enjoy slicing people's chests open when she grew up. "That was shitty. _Why_ didn't you stop me?!"

Rose couldn't help but chuckle, her shoulder giving Pen's a small nudge. "I did _try_."

"Try harder next time, will you?"

"Sure, love," Rose said, though she doubted she'd ever be successful.

Standing in front of Penny when she was on the warpath was something a sane person would never do.

"You're going to have to stand up for yourself someday, you know? You can't keep taking work that's not yours."

"Someday. Just not… today." Rose bit down her shaking lip and nodded silently. "Why the sudden campaign for my welfare? Jesse was also-"

"I passed you by earlier and you were _humming_." Pen stretched her arms over her head, her prodigious bosom jutting out. "Quite off key, I may add. Thanks, by the way, you didn't even say 'hi' after two bloody weeks. But it was the least… well, _miserable_ I've seen you since we've met. And I was getting tired of watching that wanker bully you."

"So you decided to give him a whipping?"

"Kinky," Penny said, waggling her eyebrows. "But no, I just really wanted to see that smug arsehole taken down a notch or two. Call it a personal achievement."

"Thanks, Pen." Rose leaned against Penny and let her head rest on the girl's shoulder. "I appreciate it." After a few seconds she asked, "Do you suppose we'll be jerks when we're Healers?"

"Probably. The only one out of the whole lot who isn't a complete shitehead is Healer Aspen. And I love Thatcher, but, you know, it's definitely not because of his sparkling personality."

"I like Choi... but I wouldn't want to get on his bad side." Rose shuddered as she remembered the way Choi talked about Sauvage. "I wonder if they had it this bad when they were residents."

"They _are_ nice to the patients though," Penny mused. "Maybe they're just as done with this place as we are."

"It's a possibility."

"What about your proposal? Have you gotten anywhere with it?"

Rose snorted.

For one to propose something, one had to actually have an idea of _what_ to propose… and after all this time she still had zilch, nada, diddly-squat. She didn't even have a particular specialty in mind. Pen had her obsession with Clinic and Jesse had his fatal attraction to lost causes.

What did she have?

"I'm going to take that as a 'no'."

Jesse was doing this amazing research project whereupon he'd be trying to remove not only memories of smoking, but also cherry picking the actual habit out of someone.

In an unlikely twist of fate, Melissa and Pen had teamed up and asked for Thatcher's patronage as they tried to emulate the Muggle MRI technology by creating a more accurate divination spell than the ones they currently used.

Even bloody Sauvage was being a productive member of society. In the past month he'd apparently taken Choi's criticism to heart and picked up a book that wasn't in the curriculum. From what Jesse had told her, Sauvage had managed to get himself involved in a small study involving a series of Undeads in cooperation with Hoytzer's Hospital in Berlin.

And then there was her.

"Yeah." She tried to sound dismissive and in control. "But I still have time."

Alas, she did not feel dismissive or in control. The deadline was looming over her head and she still had a whole big, fat load of nothing.

"Damn right you do," Penny said, a small grin curling her lips.

"Not a long time though." Rose's stomach churned slightly. "And everyone else has handed it in. You and Jess-"

"You need to stop bloody comparing yourself to me and Jesse or I'm going to hex all of that poofy hair off," Pen threatened, getting up to her feet and holding out her hands to help Rose to her feet. "It's not the same."

Rose protested, "Of course it's the same-"

"The first time Boot saw you smoking, I could see the gears in his brain turning and coming up with that stupid project of his," Penny said, shaking her head with obvious disapproval. "I'm into Muggle medicine and Lewis is a Divination buff. It makes sense for us. You just need to figure out what would make sense for _you_."

"Sure." Rose forced a smile onto her face. "What makes sense for me, huh?"

She didn't say what she felt, which was really 'what if nothing makes sense for me?'.

"Don't just agree with me for the sake of agreeing, you know I hate it," Penny scoffed. "When the time comes, if you're desperate, you can always tag along with me and Lewis. But until then, you have time to figure out what you want."

Melissa and Pen were the sort of people who would carry her to the finish line if need be, without her having to move a single finger to help.

Rose wished she had the humility to accept it, she really did. Alas, she was too proud, too stubborn and too self-aware. It made her sick to her stomach to think what people might say about handouts and favouritism.

The only problem was that she still didn't have a viable alternative.

"Pen, I don't _want_ anything."

" _Yet_ ," Penny said. "You hide in Magical Bugs because it's safe and you're good at it, but you have options. You could take one of the spring internships, casual date a few different specialties before you commit, postpone your proposal-"

" _No_ ," Rose spat. "And turn out like Erin Bloomby, who's been interning for what, _five years_ now?"

"Don't you _dare_ compare yourself to Erin Bloomby, you bint. She's got half your brains and none of your wit."

"Yes, that's how I'll find my way out of this conundrum," Rose scowled, opening the door and stepping out. "My brains and my wit."

"I don't know why you say it like that, you idiot," Penny said, grabbing her arm and holding her back. "Rose, you're smart. You work hard. The patients love you. You're a decent diagnostician and, while I definitely wouldn't trust you around a needle, you're pretty nifty with a wand, especially when you don't have the time to panic."

Incredible how when compliments came from people that mattered they never struck as hard as when they did from random almost-strangers.

"Penny…"

"Penny Schmenny." She placed both hands on Rose's face and leaned in until their foreheads were touching. "Now, repeat after me…"

Rose's eyes met Pen's laughing gaze, mostly because there was no other option when she was standing so close. She tried to free herself from Penny's grasp, but her hands had Rose's face in a vice.

"I'd like to point out that A, this is ridiculous and B, it will likely produce a lot of rumours if people see us."

"Desperate times require desperate measures. Now stop squirming before I decide to actually snog you and give those rumours some legs to stand on," Penny scolded. Rose stopped moving instantly. "Good girl. Now repeat after me: I am _brilliant_."

"I am… _really_ , Pen?"

"Yes, _really_ ," Pen said, mimicking her tone. "This will take a lot less time if you cooperate. Now… I am _brilliant_."

"I am brilliant," Rose repeated obediently.

"I am a _stunning_ diagnostician."

"I don't know if I'd say stunning, but like-"

" _Stunning_ , Rose," Penny said irritably. " _Stunning_."

"I am a _stunning_ diagnostician."

She was kind of getting into it now. If she disregarded how utterly corny this was, it was actually kind of... nice.

"My patients love me even though I let them boss me around."

"My patients love me and I _definitely_ don't let them boss me around."

"You _do_ let them go on endless tirades about their cats though," Penny pointed out. "And their kids."

"That I do," Rose said, one of the corners of her mouth curling upwards. "Which is precisely _why_ they love me."

"Good," Penny said, her grin widening. "Now… I study harder than everyone else because I'm a maniac."

"I _do_ study harder than everyone else because I'm a maniac," Rose said, a small smile on her face. "What else you got?"

There was a pause for a few seconds and Penny dropped her hands from her face, wrapping her arms around Rose instead.

"I love my dear friend Penny."

"I _definitely_ love my dear friend Penny," Rose said softly, leaning into Penny and closing her eyes. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"And yet you love me," Pen said, spitting out a piece of hair that had lodged itself in her mouth and letting out a low chuckle that tickled Rose's ear. "To bits."

"And pieces."

* * *

 _Two updates in one week? Is this a parallel universe?_

 _Nope, it's not. Like I said, the last chapter was blocking all this goodness and now here we are! My gift to you in these troubled times we're living in. I hope you're all doing okay and staying safe!_

 _What was that you said_ _ **Guest**_ _? Faster updates? Oh, my._

 _This chapter's been written for... months. Like MONTHS. It was just waiting for the right time to emerge and now here it is! I really loved writing it. It's one of my favourites yet :) Thanks as always to_ _ **TheChirpyBitch**_ _for proofing, especially since life has just gotten extra hard!_

 _I'd also like to send a special shout-out and thank you to_ _ **fearinourminds**_ _and_ _ **MoonstoneAndStardust**_ _who are both incredible and consistently write me lovely reviews rooting for these two idiots!_

 _As usual comment, subscribe, kudo, bookmark, favourite or follow - but mostly comment, I love those!_


	19. Chapter 19

_Apparently my MO is either to bang out a chapter in three days or to spend months struggling against a scene that isn't working, only to scrap it entirely and bang out a new one in three days. *overdramatically kills self* Enjoy! As usual, thanks to **TheChirpyWitch** for proofing this nonsense!_

* * *

 **January 10th, 2028 - 11pm**

Al peeled his gaze away from the fireplace to look at Rose, who had just let out a throaty chuckle.

She was lying on the carpeted floor, her legs resting over the seat of the couch and reading some notes. Gone was the sullen mien she usually bore, gone were the glares, the muttered curses, the sighs and the puffs.

Most importantly, gone was that pervasive aura of panic that always surrounded her.

Instead, she seemed to be having a reverse meltdown of sorts: every once in a while, she'd _laugh_.

At her _notes_.

Like she was having _fun_.

Al was afraid to even ask. He had no idea of what was happening to her, but she was acting like an entirely different person.

On the one hand, he wondered whether he should feel concerned.

On the other, he never wanted it to stop. _Ever_.

Between Rose's prelude of madness and Scorp's messages a few hours earlier, Al wasn't at all sure of what to do with himself.

 _'Quit Puddlemere but the Magpies thing tanked. I'll be home late, don't wait up.'_

The first message had sent him scrambling away from his desk. He'd grabbed his coat, told his coworkers that he 'wasn't feeling very well' and then bolted for the door.

Before he could call Scorp, he'd gotten a second one.

 _'I'm fine.'_

That inspired very little confidence. But no matter how many times he'd called and messaged back, Scorp hadn't answered.

And so Al had gone home and waited.

It was almost 11 p.m. and he was waiting still.

He let go an irritated huff and stood back up, pacing aimlessly around the living room to let out some of the frustration that was eating at him.

"He'll be home soon," Rose said, lowering her (apparently hilarious) notes to her chest. "And he said he's fine."

"Yes," Al grumbled between gritted teeth, "because when people say they're 'fine' they're never lying."

"Worrying won't make him come home faster," she pointed out, pulling her legs down and rolling to sit with her back against the couch. "Go have dinner or something."

It was odd seeing her sitting on the floor rather than her usual spot, but honestly, she looked happy, so he wasn't about to suggest tinkering with any variables that might make her less so.

"Lady Anxiety telling me to chill?" Al asked, raising an eyebrow and taking a seat on the couch close to her. "What are you _on_?"

She turned back to face him, draped her arm on the couch and rested her chin on it.

"Hodge recycles exam questions and Boot gave me tailored notes," she said, a smile tugging at her lips. "Plus, Penny practically bit that asshole Odgen's head off."

Al blinked and shook his head. "Wow."

"It was a _good_ day."

Scorpius, on the other hand, was possibly having the worst day of his life.

The universe had a weird way of keeping score.

"Does this mean you'll stop having massively fucked up schedules?"

"I mean..." Rose, who was apparently tired of craning her neck to look back at him, got up to her feet and plopped onto the couch next to him. "I'll still have massively fucked up schedules, but I doubt Odgen will be dropping extra shifts or paperwork on my lap any time soon."

She was practically thrumming with energy.

He really should buy Boot and Penny a drink.

"I know you're worried," Rose said, laying on her back and stretching her leg to nudge his nose with her foot, "but we don't know what happened yet."

"Eww, woman." Al grabbed her toe between his index finger and his thumb and pulled it away from his face. "Just disgusting."

She grinned and struggled to bring her foot closer again, an impish grin on her face. "Yes, but am I disgustingly _right_?"

"If you don't stop sticking your nasty foot on my face, I'll hex it off," Al threatened, grabbing her leg and forcefully lowering it. "And yes, of course you are. Doesn't stop me from worrying about him."

"Do you think he's miserable?"

Now _she_ sounded worried and Al had to bite down a chuckle. "I have no idea."

You didn't need to be a genius to figure out where those two idiots were headed. They'd gone from bickering out of spite, to bickering out of habit; from not being able to stand each other's presence, to subconsciously seeking it out; from 'I hope he gets hit by a Bludger', to 'do you think he's miserable?'.

In a twisted sort of way, Al wished that things would go back to the way they were before. There was a tiny, selfish, petty part of him that yearned for Rose to go back to hating Scorp and for Scorp to go back to hating Rose... just so he could keep them both separate and unchanged.

Fortunately, that was just a tiny part of him; the rest had pretty much started drafting his best man speech and compiling a list of names for their future children.

"Al?"

A foot appeared in his peripheral vision and he smacked it away. "What?"

"I asked whether I should make myself scarce, let you deal with him alone…?"

Damn, she just kept asking difficult questions.

He genuinely didn't know what to answer. Unlike Rose who hugged and comforted, or Scorp who fixed things and analysed his way through problems, Al would be hard-pressed to pinpoint his own MO.

Usually, he'd just do _stuff_ and things would mostly turn out alright… but he'd be damned if he had any idea what that _stuff_ actually was.

And so, as usual, he went with his gut.

" _Stay_."

And Rose Weasley, who three months prior had declared that she hated Scorpius Malfoy and wanted him to burn in hell, just nodded and waited with him.

* * *

 **January 11th, 2028 - 1 am**

It was one on the clock when the fireplace burned green and spat out an ashen-faced Scorp.

"I told you not to wait," the blonde boy said, straightening himself up and throwing the pair of them a look that bordered on resentful. "I'm exhausted, I'm going to bed."

There was nothing 'fine' about the way he looked, but 'exhausted' Al would believe in a heartbeat. His smile was strained and now he really _did_ look like he'd been trampled on by a herd of Thestrals.

Rose's hesitant voice broke the silence. "What happened?"

"Quit Puddlemere and the Magpies already hired someone two days ago. Did you not get my message at all?"

Rose immediately got up to her feet, ready to comfort, to console, to reassure - but the look that Scorp had thrown her had left her hovering with uncertainty. It probably would have been better for all of them if she'd just gone for it and hugged the guy… but she didn't, clearly paralysed by rejection.

Pity. Since Scorp clearly didn't want to talk, physical affection might have been the best way to go at it.

Al might've tried it himself, but he doubted it'd have the same effect.

"I did get your sodding message." Al got up to his feet with practised carelessness, which was no mean feat considering the sucking pit of anxiety that his cousin was now exuding. He resisted the natural urge to ask all the questions that had been left unanswered and changed the topic: "Where've you been?"

"Popped by my parents' to let them know," Scorp said, taking his wand from his pocket and placing it in the bowl. "And before you ask, yes, I had dinner."

At least eating would have bought them some time.

"How well you know me. Are you sure you don't want to stay and chat for a bit?"

"I'm just…" Scorp's shoulders slumped and he shook his head with a defeated look. "I'm just tired. _Really_ tired. It was a _long_ day."

There was nothing lingering about Scorp's attitude. It wasn't that he was exactly unwelcoming, but it was clear that all the guy wanted to do was sleep… and there was nothing they could do about it.

"Get some rest, mate," Al said, shrugging and patting Scorp's shoulder. "We'll talk in the morning."

Scorp did just that. Left, without even throwing them a backwards glance.

There was something anti-climatic and unnatural about it: it was the prerogative of every best friend to bear witness to the misery of their counterparts, to mock them and reassure them… and he'd been all but robbed of it.

Selfish wanker.

"Well, that went well," Al said, throwing his jittery cousin an amused look. "Don't look so down."

"He _is_ miserable."

"Miserable, but also exhausted." Al sat on the arm of the couch and patted the seat next to him. "Can't help it, the bloke goes to bed at eleven every day like an old lady, he must be knackered."

Rose followed him and let herself fall on the couch, looking helpless and utterly frustrated.

"I didn't know what to _do_ ," she spat, covering her eyes with her hands. "I froze."

"That you did," Al agreed, wrapping an arm around her head and patting her mass of curls. "He won't mind you hugging him, you know?"

In fact, if the hug from that morning was any indication, Scorp wouldn't be opposed to it at _all_.

"That was just an impulse." Rose sniffled indignantly and struggled to free herself from his grasp. "I can't just go around randomly hugging the bloke every time I feel-"

"Why not?" Al let go of her with a smile. "If you feel like he could use one, odds are he does. Why's he any different from me or anyone else for that matter?"

Ah, the crux of the matter.

He rested his chin on his hand and watched with evil glee as his cousin's cheeks turned slightly pink.

"Isn't he your friend?"

Goading her, just a _little_.

"He is." Rose looked dead serious, her eyes taking on a hard look. "He is my friend."

"That's… good." Al had to struggle to keep a straight face. "I'm glad you two are getting along."

He wondered whether he should start his speech with a terrible joke or with a really embarrassing anecdote…?

* * *

 **January 11th, 2028 - 5 am**

"Stage three, engaged!" His own voice bellowed across the room and, not for the first time since his alarm sequence had kicked in, Half-Asleep Al cursed Awake Al.

Stage one was just an appetizer, really. Al had simply tuned out the shimmering orbs that were blaring "wake up" and other profanities of the sort right next to his ear.

The onslaught of floating objects that would periodically swoop down and whack him over the head in stage two was harder to overlook. Still, covering his face with his arms was perfectly doable... if a bit painful.

Stage three was impossible to ignore.

"You bloody idiot, you have five seconds to hop out of bed," his own recorded voice cried out reproachfully. "Countdown initiated."

Al covered his eyes and groaned. He could feel the bed transfiguring, growing taller inch by inch. It would vanish at about five feet tall, which was a long way to fall, even onto a carpeted floor.

"Five..."

He opened his eyes and wondered if he could get past the wards he'd set against himself and shut the whole thing down in four seconds.

"Four..."

Attempting to outsmart himself in the present circumstances was probably too much to ask for. Also, Awake Al had had the foresight to leave his wand out of reach just in case Half-Asleep Al felt the impulse to try.

"Three…"

Not that a wandless Accio was above his touch if he were really keen but-

"Two… Come on, mate!"

 _Urgh_.

The joyful tone to Awake Al's voice was a bit _too_ much - he should fix that.

"One…"

"Fine, fine!" Out of options, Al kicked the sheets away, grabbed his pillow and jumped out of bed right in the nick of time... just before said bed and every one of its fixings disappeared into thin air. "Eesh."

In the spot where his bed had previously been, there was now nothing but empty floor space. The damned thing would only re-materialize at about seven p.m. which was vastly inconvenient but also infallible at keeping him from going right back in.

Al rubbed the back of his neck and cursed himself under his breath.

A magazine swooshed low, rolled itself and attempted to whack him on the head. Al swatted it away with the back of his hand, at the same time carefully dodging a mortar and pestle that were about to bash his nose in.

"Oh, will you cut it out? I'm up already!"

At the sound of his scolding, the yelling, shimmering orbs from stage one twitched and spun, exploding into a tiny fireworks display.

The assorted flying paraphernalia was a bit more difficult to persuade. It stopped and hovered mid-air for a few seconds as if deciding whether he was awake enough for it to cancel the airstrike and call it a day.

"Oh go on, will you?" Al glared at them. "What do you want me to do, recite the first page of Thornton's Treatise for you?"

That did it. Apparently convinced, the objects shuffled along back to their rightful spot, neatly tidying themselves as the room reset itself for the next morning.

Al sighed.

He really wanted to scrap stage one and stage two as they were both becoming oh-so-incredibly annoying.

Unfortunately, without that nasty bit of foreplay, he doubted he'd actually be awake enough to process that stage three was even happening. He really didn't fancy waking up by falling five feet on a daily basis - not to mention the last time that he'd attempted round three on its own he'd just curled up into a ball and resumed his sleep right there anyway, which kind of beat the point.

This particular sequence had actually been more successful than the previous ones if you took Overall Annoyance, Visible Bruises, Time To Actually Rise and Resulting Mood into consideration.

It was a marked improvement over being dropped into a conjured pool of ice-cold water. The Resulting Mood was a million times better even if Time To Actually Rise had gone to shit.

He glanced over at the timer on the wall: two hours and ten minutes total.

Not bad. Not bad at all. It wasn't ideal but at least he wouldn't be late for… oh.

Right.

He wasn't late at all.

Al wondered briefly if he should attempt to conjure back his bed from whatever weird pocket dimension he'd banished it to, only to dismiss the option as soon as his eyes gleaned the time on the clock. It was five a.m. and he wasn't about to spend the next three hours fighting a second round of his alarm just so he could be up in time for work.

Maybe he'd just ditch work. What was a little lie in the grand scheme of things? He wouldn't even be lying, he'd just be extending his previous lie of 'not feeling so well'.

In his defence, waking up in the middle of a work night to babysit his idiot best friend was mighty good of him... regardless of how long it actually had taken him to respond.

Hopefully, by now, Scorp would be tucked back into his bed.

As he opened the door and shielded his eyes from the light, he realised he was in no such luck.

" _Why_ are you up?" Al groaned, stumbling out of his room, dragging his pillow behind him. "Why can't you two idiots _sleep_ like normal people?!"

A rhetorical question, if there was ever one.

The very reason Al had placed a tripwire spell smack dab outside Scorp's room and linked it to his alarm was because he'd predicted this might happen.

Scorp was crouching down on the floor in the middle of the living room, fully dressed, a heavy wooden box laying in front of him.

"What are you _doing_ , mate?" Al asked in a gentler tone, coming closer and crouching down next to him, wrapping an arm around Scorp's shoulders and giving them an affectionate squeeze. "It's five a.m."

"Trying to figure out if they're broken or just offended," Scorp replied, his eyes never leaving the box. At the sound of his voice, it gave a few violent kicks in his general direction and Scorp placed a soothing hand on top of it that did absolutely nothing to subdue the shaking. "Their hearing is fine, apparently."

The box gave a series of kicks as if to signal its protest.

Scorp gingerly snapped the lid of the box open and Al dropped his arm from his shoulder, staring at the set of Bludgers inside with mild interest. One of them was doing its absolute best to free itself from the clasps holding it down. The other one was just lying listlessly, shaking itself every few seconds like it had developed a nasty tic.

You didn't need to be an expert to know that was odd behaviour for a Bludger.

You also didn't need to be an expert to know that checking out his Bludgers in the middle of the living room at five a.m. was odd behaviour for a Scorpius.

"How long has it been since you've taken them out for a spin?" Al asked, tickling the inert Bludger with a finger. There was no reaction from it, though the one next to it went absolutely wild with murderous intent. "Want me to take a look at them?"

In the morning, of course, not at five bloody a.m.

"There's nothing I'd like better... but I can't sleep and I've run out of things to do."

There was a defensive tone to his voice. For the first time since he'd gotten to the living room, Al took a _good_ look around.

There was a faint whiff of lavender in the air and now that his brain had finally woken up, he noted that there weren't traces of any _living_ , no mugs, no papers, no nothing. Even the damned pillows had been fluffed and Rose's notes and books were aligned into small, even piles.

Merlin, she was going to be livid.

"Have you been stress-cleaning again?" Al asked accusingly. "I thought we'd talked about this."

"No," Scorp said, sniffing indignantly. His gaze met Al's and a rueful half-smile grew on his lips. "Fine, _maybe_."

"You could've at least stress-baked," Al grumbled, pulling himself to his feet. "I'd rather wake up to cupcakes than _this_... whatever _this_ is."

He tossed his pillow onto the nearest couch and stretched his arms over his head. There was no way he'd be able to actually go back to sleep now.

"We're out of flour," Scorp shrugged. "This was the next best thing."

 _'Out of flour'_.

 _Eesh_.

"So what was the plan here?" Al asked, letting himself fall down on the nearest couch and hugging his pillow tightly to his chest. "Were you going to take them for a spin now? At five a.m.?"

"Oh, I don't _know_ ," Scorp replied irritably, slamming the Bludger box shut. "I don't recall the last time I found myself up at five in the morning without a damned job." He paused for a few seconds and set the box carefully against a side table. "What do _you_ propose I do with myself instead? Go back to sleep, is it? Ignore the fact that when I wake up in an hour I'll have absolutely _nothing_ to do?"

"Scorp, you've barely been out of a job for twelve hours," Al said calmly. "Plenty of people-"

"Oh, great. Now you're going to tell me that 'plenty of people don't have jobs'?" Scorp shook his head. "That's helpful, thank you, really, for the insight you're providing into this world of unemployment which you have obviously experienced first hand."

The last time he'd seen Scorp looking so distressed was back when the N.E.W.T.s had been owled home and Scorp had realised his Potions grade wasn't an Outstanding as they'd all assumed, but an Exceeds Expectations.

"Scorp, you're panicking." It was ungodly just how much Al wanted to laugh at that particular moment. He struggled to keep a straight face rather than outright mock his best friend as nature demanded. "And as entertaining as this is to watch, I'd like you to take a deep breath and sit the fuck down."

"I'm not _panicking_." Scorp rolled his eyes - but he did sit down, even if only to prove that he was in fact as collected as he claimed to be.

"Listening to the voice of reason for once, that's a good lad," Al said, tossing the pillow he'd been holding in Scorp's general direction. "Now talk me through this: if I suddenly got kicked out of Gringotts, what should I do?"

"You'd _never_ get kicked from Gringotts," Scorp scoffed without a moment's hesitation. "Everyone at Gringotts and their mothers would trade their first-borns for you."

Damn right they would.

"Entertain the hypothetical for a while," Al said, leaning back against the couch, and closing his eyes with a shadow of a smile on his face. "I'm out of a job. What do I do?"

"That's a shitty example mate." Al couldn't see Scorp's face, but he was pretty sure he was scowling. "You could just owl the Curse-Breaking Department in the Ministry and they'd pretty much hire you on the spot."

"How's it different then?" Al opened his eyes to throw a side glance at Scorp. "I'm good, you're good. What Teams have shit Beaters? Or what teams have old, ready-to-retire Beaters, at least?"

"Other than Puddlemere and the Magpies?"

" _Obviously_."

Al opened one of his eyes to peer at Scorp: he was still anxiously fiddling his thumbs, but there was something about his demeanour that was slowly changing.

"The Beating scene is surprisingly good this year if I'm honest," Scorp said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Not a lot of truly crummy Beaters out there."

Al gave himself a mental pat on the back. Now to drive the point home.

"Indulge me. Which ones?"

"The Arrows are fine, they have Harper and Collins and they'll still last a few good years. The Bats could be doing better but-"

The nerd was actually going at it alphabetically.

"Spare me the ones who are fine," Al said, waving his hand dismissively. "Just get me the ones who could use an improvement on the Beater front."

"There's… well, the Cannons, but that goes without saying, they could use an improvement on _every_ front. The Kestrels, the Catapults and the Wasps have ageing players, though they're not _bad_ per se. Pride definitely needs new Beaters, but they already have two new green players. I haven't seen them play yet, but they could turn out to be spectacular."

"Better than you?"

"Heavens, no," Scorp scoffed disdainfully. "The Falcons were looking a while ago and they found Paris and Kenna, but from what I've heard they haven't gelled with the rest of the team. Same for the Harpies, but-"

"You're more of a girl than some of their players, it's always worth a shot," Al said, lazily stretching out his arm over the back of the couch and resting his cheek on it. "What else you got?"

"There's the Tornadoes, I guess…?"

"So we have Bats, Cannons, Pride of Portree, Falcons, Harpies and Tornadoes."

"Probably scratch the Cannons and the Harpies," Scorp said, rolling his eyes. "First because they're shit and second because… well, they're not shit, but the odds of them hiring me are even slimmer than the odds the Cannons have of _ever_ winning the Cup."

"None then."

" _Nil_."

"How very sexist."

"It's not sexist, it's _tradition_."

Al chuckled lightly. "And your penis would break tradition, is it?"

"Still, there's a few options," Scorp continued, ignoring him with all the self-possession of one who thought dick jokes were beneath him. "You think James or Holly would be willing to look into it for me?"

He was looking excited now. Al could see the little boxes in Scorp's brain slowly shuffling themselves into order. A little more of this and he'd be fine... and Al could go back to his warm bed. Or Scorp's bed, since he doubted he could conjure his back from whatever pocket dimension he'd sent it to.

"All you need to do is ask. James will be thrilled, you know how fond he is of talking shit about Quidditch Players. He'll tear a couple of Beaters to shreds and they'll thank him for it. And Holly's a peach, she'll write an article about you that'll make every heart in Britain reach out to you in… er... _sympathy_."

"I don't want pity," Scorp protested. "I just-"

"You misheard me," Al replied, a small smirk curling his lips. "When I said sympathy, I meant every single Witch Weekly reader will want to shag you."

Scorp's face scrunched into a scowl. "Really?"

"It's what she does best." Al shrugged. "Why do you think people like the Arrows so much?"

Because Holly and her silver tongue kept playing them up to be the best thing that had happened to Britain since… _ever_ , really.

"Will I have to give her an interview?" A strained groan escaped Scorp's lips. "That sounds ghastly."

Of course, Scorpius was the only person in Britain who would balk at the idea of having _fans_.

"Oh, you'll hate it but it'll do you a world of good."

 _Dolt_.

"My parents told me they'd get me an interview at Olyphant's," Scorp said, leaning back with feigned casualness. "So that is a thing."

Al's eyes snapped open at the word 'Olyphant's'.

" _The_ Olyphant's?"

A bitter smirk curled Scorp's lips. "The one and the same."

After Hogwarts, Scorp would have killed for one of two things: an internship at Olyphant's Potion Emporium or a Beater position at Puddlemere. Unfortunately, his shit Potions N.E.W.T. hadn't allowed him to pursue the former and the latter had only materialised a few months too late.

That was how he'd found himself pushing paperwork at the Ministry in a soul-sucking job that had rid him of any political ambitions he might have entertained at one point - though Al sincerely doubted Scorp ever had any ambitions of the sort.

And now here he was, with Olyphant's being all but handed to him on a silver platter.

"Is that something you'd like to do?"

Rhetoric seemed to be his M.O. today.

Of _course_ Scorp would like to do it, he just needed to reach that brilliant conclusion himself and possibly rid himself of any pesky scruples that told him that using his contacts was 'wrong'.

"Maybe…?" Scorp leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I haven't actually brewed anything since…"

It wasn't uncertainty, more of a neutral statement. Scorp didn't _do_ uncertainty about himself and his skills. Albus for one was glad he wouldn't have to actually reassure Scorp about his potioneering prowess or lack thereof - mostly because he himself had only passed his Potions N.E.W.T. by the skin of his teeth and with a _lot_ of help from Rose.

"The Everburning Amortentia candles, yes."

Scorp said, yawning. "I'm not going to lie, it'd be brilliant. But if they refused me out of Hogwarts when I was at my best, they're probably not going to-"

"You _idiot_ ," said a voice that belonged to neither of them.

Al's eyes shifted to the doorway where Rose was standing, leaning against the wall. Her hair was impossibly tousled and she was wearing her pyjamas.

"How long have you been lurking there?" Al asked, lowering his legs from the couch to make room for her. "Up already or not asleep yet?"

He didn't bother asking her if they'd woken her. The spell on her room was a masterpiece the likes of which he would probably never achieve again. He'd poured his all into it, stacking spells upon spells together to make sure _nothing_ would disturb her, synchronized and entwined in a harmonious arcane symphony.

There was the milder version of Bewitched Sleep involving principles of aromatherapy that would promote good rest, there was the Soothing Spell that had taken him weeks of tinkering to get dialled down to _just_ the right level, there was the soundproofing with sound notes of her parents' house, there was that Comforting Aura that had been a bitch to get just right, there was that Feng-Shui spell he'd gotten from one of his mates at Gringotts…

No, they couldn't possibly have woken her. Which meant she was up for the same reason as Al - because she was concerned and didn't want Scorp to have to get up and face this Brave New World all on his own.

"Up already," Rose specified, walking toward the couch and letting herself fall down on the space between the two of them. She pinched Al's pillow from his grasp and hugged it tightly against her chest. "And long enough. I was going to leave you two nitwits to it, but then Scorp started that nonsense about them not taking him when he was in his potioneering prime…"

"And you decided that calling him an idiot was a great way to join the chat," Al said, shaking his head and affectionately ruffling his cousin's hair. "Why's he an idiot? Apart from his regular, run-of-the-mill, existential idiocy, of course."

"The only reason they didn't hire you were your stupid N.E.W.T.s, which you'd have to retake anyway since they've expired by now." Rose leaned back against the couch and gave Scorp's shoulder a condescending pat. "And this time we can make sure you get a panel of examiners who aren't garbage."

"They weren't _all_ garbage," Scorp said, rolling his eyes. "It was only the Arithmancy and Charms ones, the rest of them were fine."

Rose scoffed. "Just because the Arithmancy teacher was the only one who was openly hostile and Al was only there to witness the absolute calamity that was your Charms N.E.W.T, that doesn't mean-"

She seemed to collect herself and awkwardly stopped mid-sentence.

"What, Rosie dear?" Al asked sweetly, lips curled into a small smile. "What _doesn't_ that mean?"

She glared over at him, lips pursed into a thin line. He knew exactly what it meant and he also knew that she didn't want to say it.

He also knew that Scorp needed to hear it.

Throwing your best friend under the bus to help your other best friend was as good a plan as any.

"Fine," Rose hissed between gritted teeth. "You want me to get into that?"

"Yes, I think it'll be productive."

"What will be productive?" Scorp asked, eyes shifting between the two of them.

The facts of the matter were simple: after the N.E.W.T. results had arrived, Al had kicked up a fuss so grand that Scorp had finally agreed to retake the N.E.W.T.s he'd so obviously been robbed at.

The Charms exam had obviously been a debacle to anyone with two eyes. Al hadn't actually sat for Arithmancy, but had heard from reliable sources that it had been an absolute carnage.

Scorp had succumbed to his indignant scolds and retaken the damned practical portion of the test. The end result had been that his Acceptable in Charms had been bumped up to an Exceeds Expectations and the outrageous Poor he'd gotten in Advanced Arithmancy had somehow morphed into an Outstanding.

Now, Al had been quite pleased with the end result… for a while.

A few months after that, Rose had let slip a comment in passing that had led him to think that the harm was perhaps more insidiously widespread than just Charms and Arithmancy - specifically, in Potions.

"You're such a damned pest sometimes," Rose said, shaking her head and smacking a pillow against his face. "What good is it now?"

Al snatched the pillow from her hands and smacked her in return.

" _Tell_ the bloke!"

"How about you mind your own damn business?"

Scorp's pale hand got in the middle of the scuffle and plucked the pillow away from their grasp.

"You two need to stop bickering," he said, placing the pillow behind his head and resting back against it. "I don't even know if I want to do it."

"Scorp, you just said it'd be brilliant," Al groaned. "You wanted it so bad-"

"That was four years ago. Can you even imagine going back to taking _tests_?" He glanced over at Rose and a small smile curled his lips. "No offence."

"None taken," Rose said, shaking her head. She seemed to have relaxed by now, which was unfortunate because Al really, really wanted her to let the cat out of the bag. "I can always help you study if that's what you're concerned about."

"Would you?"

Al sighed.

Rose barely had the time to study herself, much less tutor Scorpius - who didn't even _need_ her help studying Potions, of all things - and yet here she was, taking yet another weight onto her frail shoulders.

She'd never learn.

"Sure," Rose said, a slight edge to her voice. "Are you going to be a pest about it?"

War flashbacks of the three of them stuck in a study classroom flickered through Al's mind, making him shudder. This was a terrible idea if there ever was one.

"Me?" Scorp's look was all innocence as his fingers tugged one of her curls. "When have I ever been anything but an absolute delight?"

Albus groaned. Why, oh why, was he stuck in the middle of this awkward, weird, pathetic, slow burn of a _thing_?

"I take back my offer, you can study on your own," Rose huffed, smacking his hand away and getting up to her feet. "What's that anyway?"

Al followed Rose's gaze and a grin curled his lips. The bludger box had been kicking its way to the couch ever since they'd moved, like an _extremely_ slow predator.

"Scorp's Balls," he replied, immediately getting struck with a pillow for his troubles. He held it tight on his lap and fended off Scorp's attempts to steal it from him. "He keeps them locked up so he doesn't accidentally _use_ them."

Rose stepped aside, eyeing the box warily. The box stopped for a few seconds, then shifted its trajectory, this time clearly aiming for the moving target.

"I think they like you," Albus continued, letting go of the pillow and consequently sending Scorp - who had been tug-of-warring it with him - crashing back against the couch. "Look at them go."

Scorp let out a series of nasty expletives, his face an obvious shade of red.

Next to him, Rose was glaring at him, her cheeks _also_ tinted pink.

In a stroke of (not-so-rare) genius, Albus took in the picture before him and made one of his famous gut calls.

"Now _I'm_ going to bed," he said, forcing a yawn. "I take it you two ninnies aren't going back to sleep, so I'll be taking whichever of your beds is most comfortable for the next, say, three to five hours?"

When he brushed past Rose, he pulled her aside and whispered, "He's your problem now. I strongly advise taking him for a spin."

"He's not a dog, Al, he doesn't need to be walked."

"No," Al agreed, nodding gravely. "He's a depressed Quidditch Player."

"You don't mean _flying_?" Rose whispered back, her eyes wide with panic. "With a _broom_?"

"He's been cooped up with you for two weeks without slamming a Bludger _once_." He eyed the Bludger box thoughtfully: if there was one thing that could pull Scorpius Malfoy from his sullens, it was a good session of physical violence. "Think of it as therapeutic batting. I'd take him myself, but I'm knackered."

"But…" She looked downright terrified. "You know I can't-"

It'd have been too much to expect careless, foot-on-the-face Rose to stick around for long.

What a shame.

"You don't need to fly yourself," he assured her, lying through his teeth like a lying liar. "Take your magical notes, just… be there for him."

And fine, he wasn't really knackered and no, Scorpius didn't look _too_ depressed… but somehow, it seemed like a good idea.

The best part? It didn't require him to do any actual work.

* * *

 _For those of you who actually read these... Chapter 21 is already written out and proofed, but Chapter 20 isn't. Hopefully, my muse stays alive long enough that I can write Chapter 20 and then post them both in a relatively short while. Also, I posted a companion piece to Witch Slap called ' **Just Carry The Squiggle** ' from their Hogwarts days. It should shed some light on why Al thinks it's a horrible, horrible idea for Scorp and Rose to study together XD_

 _The next chapter should be cute tho in a "why is he so close and why are my feet so far from the ground" sort of way :D After that there's going to be a time skip to ch.21, which happens about a month later (wait, is that the chapter where we finally meet Kate Towler? :O), and after that, we'll be right back on track. Hopefully...?_

 _*shrug* I honestly don't know anymore. The Witch Slap characters will do whatever it is they want to do and all of us will just get dragged along for the ride._

 _As usual, reviews, subscribes, favourites and other assorted forms of validation are appreciated. Just be aware that commenting "please update" is going to have the opposite effect on me - I'm a contrarian by nature. And yes, I do infinitely appreciate that you guys want to read more and took the time to leave a line... but telling me something you like about WS is just better bang for your buck._

 _I do try to reply to reviews (usually right before or after I post a new chapter) but it's a little awkward here on ffn, I always feel like I'm stepping on a stalkery weird line with the Personal Messaging thing so I'm sorry if my social awkwardness gets the best of me and I don't reply._

 _This last chapter was brought to you by **justawillowtree** from HPFT who reviewed the hell out of Witch Slap in the past week and basically forcefully CPR'd my muse back to life with caps lock and kind words! Special thanks to **enchantedteapot** (she's also a phenomenal writer and she ALSO does scorose, you should go check her out), to **MoonstoneAndStardust** (she has one of my fave scoroses ever, called Falling For You) and to **DaniProngs** and **fearinourminds** who consistently chuck love at my head. _

_Finally I hope Corona has chilled a little where you're from and that you're all staying safe *hugs*_


	20. Chapter 20

**January 11th, 2028 - 6am**

Yellow lights painted the surroundings in eerie orange hues. Billowing clouds of tinted fog wafted over the pitch, shifting in an agonizingly slow fashion. The night was still and the world was silent... apart from the occasional sound of a bat connecting with a hissing Bludger.

 _Thunk_.

 _Whoosh_.

Trust Scorpius Malfoy to ruin any poetic musings about the scenario.

 _Thunk_.

 _Whoosh_.

 _Thunk._

At least he looked like he was having fun.

Rose let herself back fall onto the damp grass, her eyes still following to the madman flying against the orange sky. Every once in a while he'd swoosh low, a manic grin on his face as his feet kissed the grass before soaring right back up until he was nothing but a tiny black dot.

Had she ever seen him fly?

She supposed she had, back in the day. Looking at him now, however, she realised she had never _seen_ him fly.

If Scorp was catty on the ground, he was cattier in the sky. Graceful, adaptable, reactive.

Beautiful.

Daring.

 _Different_.

It was an odd development to chew on, the fact that there was this whole side of him that she'd never met. It wasn't just the flying either. It was the cooking, the cleaning, the… _everything_.

What had she been looking at for ten years?

Worse still, what else _hadn't_ she been seeing?

She clutched her notes to her chest and closed her eyes, turtling into the billion sizes too large sweater she'd pinched from him. She wasn't actually sure if she'd pinched it or if he'd offered, she just knew that she was wearing it and that she was never taking it off again.

Why were men's clothes so infinitely warmer and more comfortable than women's? She was half-sure this one had a heating spell sewed into it, it was probably the only thing keeping her from freezing to death.

None of her sweaters was either as comfortable or _comforting_.

 _Whoosh_.

 _Thunk_.

 _Whoosh_.

 _Thunk_.

That last 'thunk' had felt far too close.

Rose opened her eyes to see a dishevelled Scorpius Malfoy peering down at her, floppy-haired, wild-eyed, the very picture of childish contentment. He had laid down his broom but the bat was still in his hand and he was leaning against it in a way that could almost be described as carefree.

"Alright, Weasley?"

There was a grin on his face as he crouched down next to her, his arms casually draped over his knees.

"Alright, Malfoy," she replied, ignoring the obvious correlation between her increased heartbeat and his smile. "You done?"

 _Whoosh_.

"Not nearly." He got back up to his feet and carelessly swung his bat at the incoming bludger, sending it reeling back into the sky. "Just checking up on you."

There was a thin film of sweat on his forehead and his usual ease had returned.

"I'd compliment your batting, but for all I know you could be rubbish."

"I'm _definitely_ not rubbish," Scorp said smugly. "By all means compliment away."

It was as if his soul had gotten a massage.

Therapeutic batting indeed.

Rose snorted. "I know sod all about Quidditch so I'm just going to _pretend_ I believe you and then ask my dad about it sometime."

"You get your Quidditch opinions from your dad?" Scorp had crouched again and was caught between a frown and the obvious urge to laugh. "The diehard Chudley Cannons fan? That seems... misguided."

"That's _my_ team you're insulting, thank you very much."

She'd never felt less offended in her life. It was difficult to be mad at a guy who kept smiling down at you like heaven was a place on earth and you were an integral part of it.

"You cheer for the _Cannons_?"

"Yep."

 _Whoosh_.

 _Thunk_.

"I'm sorry, are we talking about the same Cannons?" Scorp shook his head with the delighted look of a Slytherin who had unearthed a dirty, dirty little secret. "The ones who haven't won a game in-"

Ever. Yes.

"What can I say, I like an underdog," Rose replied, stretching her arms over her head, her fingers playing with a nearby tuft of grass. "I like the idea that they're historically the very worst of the worst. I feel like that's an accomplishment in its own right."

" _No_." Scorpius laughed. "That's _indoctrination_ if I've ever seen it."

Rose stifled a laugh of her own. "Says the man who came out of the womb wearing Puddlemere merch."

Scorp's smile fell so hard and so fast that it practically dug a hole in the ground… and Rose was left wishing she could hide in it.

"Sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine."

But clearly, it wasn't 'fine'. The air had shifted, heaven had dissolved into bleak reality and Scorp's posture was taut like a wire that was close to snapping all over again.

So much for therapy.

Rose got back up to her feet and took her sweet time wiping the dirt off her jeans while she gathered her scattered thoughts.

What was she doing? What was the plan here? Was she going to-

 _Whoooooooo-_

The sound sent her brain reeling just as her eyes registered the Bludger fast incoming.

Move.

Move.

 _Now!_

 _Shhhhhhhhh-_

Rose found herself rooted to the spot, her panicked commands not quite reaching her limbs.

 _Thunk_.

The impact never came and, rather than getting her face bashed in as she expected, Rose realised she was pressed against something warm and soft and not-at-all Bludger-like.

Her heart was still hammering in her throat as the arm around her slackened. When her brain finally regained the ability to process thought, she opened a single eye to discover that the warm, soft thing her back was currently being held against was a chest.

A very fine chest. Scorp's chest, to be precise.

Oh, wow, Penny was right: he _was_ fit.

Wait, why was she shocked? Of course he was fit, she'd seen him naked, for crying out loud! She _knew_ he was fit!

But had she _cared..._? How had she _not_ cared...?

She was caring now, very much so. She was also noticing that up close his jaw was-

And then the jaw stepped away, throwing a bucket of cold water over any considerations she was planning on making about it.

"If you're going to stand," Scorp said calmly, as if dodging _death_ were the most normal thing in the world, "I'm going to move the hell away from you. That or we can just leave."

" _No_."

"What do you mean ' _no_ '?" Scorp's eyebrows shot upwards. "It's just going to keep coming back, that's how Bludgers work."

' _No_ ', don't let her go.

' _No_ ', going away was a terrible idea.

' _No_ ', this was nice and she was happy.

That was what ' _no_ ' meant.

Fortunately by then her brain circuits had managed to somehow realign themselves into something resembling normalcy, which was a shame. Normalcy was apparently bleak and boring and completely devoid of Scorpius Malfoy's arms around her.

"I meant ' _no_ ' we don't need to leave," she said, collapsing back to the ground and clutching her notes with an unsteady hand. "The goal of this was for you to get some batting done."

"I'm good."

"Oh really?" Rose let herself fall onto her back, crossed her arms behind her head and glared at him in all her I'm-Not-Moving glory.

"Really."

"Two seconds ago you said you weren't nearly done," she said, her tone accusing. "You go back to your silly batting and I'll go back to my miracle notes."

Then the world might make some sense again.

"Well yes, I was having fun. But now..."

"Now you're not anymore?"

All because of some stupid comment?

Scorp rolled his eyes, threw his bat to the side and flicked the open case next to him with his foot.

 _Whoooooosh_.

Before she could protest, he'd already caught the Bludger and slammed it shut into the box.

"That was..." Rose braced herself on one of her arms to look at him. "You didn't need to-"

"You're right, I didn't need to," he deadpanned, letting himself fall back next to her on the grass. "Are you quite done beating yourself up? Or do you need a minute? I have a bat you can borrow if you want to do some real damage."

Her eyebrows shot upwards and he shook his head.

"Merlin, you _are_ an idiot," he said, rolling onto his side to look at her. "Yes, I was having fun, and yes, you single-handedly ruined it. How _dare_ you?"

There was nothing reproachful about his tone whatsoever. If anything, he sounded like he was poking fun at her.

Also, Morgana, he was close. He was so very close and he seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that he was about to give her a heart attack.

"I already said I was sorry," she mumbled, leaning a little backwards in a desperate attempt to put some room between them. "It was misguided and-"

"It was a joke, Rose," he said, tugging a rogue curl that had been dangling (rather annoyingly) in front of her eyes and tossing it aside. "Just a joke."

It was extremely difficult to produce coherent thought when the bloke you fancied seemed to get a kick out of playing with your hair.

Fancied?

 _Oh, Merlin_.

Rose sat back up, her eyes wide and her heart beating erratically.

Oh god, she did, didn't she? Not just as a Boredom Crush either, was it?

 _Shit_.

Shit, shit, shitty, shit, shit.

 _Shit._

Rose awkwardly turned away from him, aware that her face was either beet red or had already exploded.

Oh, Merlin.

"Alright, Weasley...?"

"Alright, Malfoy." Rose was sure that she'd never spewed a bigger lie. "If you're not going back to batting, we should go home. It's freezing out."

She was proud of herself and the fact that her voice didn't betray the screaming that was happening inside her head.

"You're _cold_? That's a lie if I've ever heard one."

His voice practically oozed disbelief. It was also not stationary and was clearly moving closer until its owner finally popped back into her peripheral view. As if his closeness and his shoulder against hers weren't enough to send every one of her senses into overdrive, a cold hand reached out to find her own.

That was when her heart _really_ gave out.

"You're definitely not cold," he said, in an accusing and detestably unfazed tone. "If anything _I_ am."

He seemed to think this was perfectly normal, holding girls' hands in Quidditch pitches in the dead of night. Maybe for him it was, who knew...?

It was unreasonable, they were just _hands_. Hand holding was something teenagers fussed about and this was barely hand-holding. If anything it was hand _touching_ and hand touching hardly qualified as something to fuss about.

Yet there she was, a Fourth Year Healer-In-Training... clearly fussing.

"You're not cold, you're freezing," she said, giving his hand a brave, experimental squeeze. "Are we trying to get an encore on the Shivers debacle?"

His hands weren't soft, by any reasonable measure. They were hard, rough and calloused. They weren't the sort of hands you wanted to hold, they were the sort of hands you wanted-

"Don't act high and mighty, _you're_ the one who nabbed my sweater."

Rose gently tried to extricate her hand from his before her mind really became a cesspool.

Unfortunately, Scorp had picked that exact moment to squeeze her hand back and she really couldn't go through with it on account of having melted into a feckless pile of goo.

Why was he so damned tactile? And how on earth did he make this feel like it was the most natural thing in the world? Like of _course_ he was holding her hand, in what bizarre world _wouldn't_ he be holding her hand?

"Scorp, you have a million different sweaters," she protested. "You have more sweaters than Al, and that's saying something."

"That one's enchanted and you damned well know it."

Well, she had _suspected_ it.

"Do you want to trade, then?"

"You really do have a death wish." Scorp snorted, letting go of her hand and jamming his own back into his pocket. "That sweater's probably the only thing keeping you from freezing."

His breath was shallow, clouds of smoke coming from his mouth in the desperate cold.

"Want to go back?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

He turned to face her with a slight frown on his face. "Avoidance?" He shrugged. "Chatting with Al helped with the whole existential pit of despair, but it doesn't fix my day-to-day. I'll just send a bunch of letters but that won't fill up nine hours."

"You're afraid of getting _bored_?" Rose snorted. "Think of it as a holiday."

Quoting her barista now, how hypocritical.

"Says the girl who skipped all the way to work this morning." His brow furrowed up at her. "The only reason I didn't go batty these two weeks was because I had _your_ sorry arse to worry about."

"Didn't know you cared so much about my arse."

What was she _doing_?!

"Every man needs a hobby." Scorp picked at a nearby tuft of grass and sighed, a small smile curling his mouth. "Except now you and your arse won't be around."

"No. We won't. Not always anyway."

They sat in amiable silence for a few minutes, as Scorp aimlessly destroyed the poor patch of grass in front of him and Rose wondered why, oh, why she'd thought this was a good idea. Al was far more qualified to deal with this and yet there she was, out of her depth, making half-hearted jokes about her arse.

"Are you still scared of flying?" Scorp finally broke the silence, chucking a small leafy stalk at her. "I thought you'd've gotten over it by now."

Not-so-smoothly changing the conversation to something personally embarrassing: what a terribly Slytherin thing to do.

"That obvious, huh?" Rose snorted, indulging the new thread. "I wonder what gave it away...?"

"I think the first clue was you almost biting my head off when I offered to lend you a broom," Scorp said, rolling his eyes. "So I'm guessing the answer is 'yes', then."

"It's a half-hearted 'no'." He looked at her expectantly and she continued: "It's not that I'm scared of flying. I'm good with the flying."

"What then?"

"It's the whole 'falling at 9.8 metres per second squared and getting intimately reacquainted with the ground' that I don't fancy."

"Let me see if I get this: you're not scared of flying." He lifted an eyebrow at her. "You're scared of _Physics_?"

"I don't have beef with the entire field, it's just gravity I have a problem with." Rose shook her head and threw a bit of grass of her own at him. "Every time I'm on a broom all I can think of is 'if I fall now, I'll meet the ground at x meters per second'. Really takes the romance out of it."

Scorp took a deep breath and snorted once.

Then again.

Then another time until he was chuckling.

"Yes, yes, mock me all you want," Rose huffed, tearing a handful of grass and tossing it at his face. " _You_ of all people wouldn't get it."

Him of all people. Him, the walking contradiction of rationale and recklessness.

"No, I get it," Scorp said, spitting out a grass blade and brushing off a series of green projectiles from his hair. "Flying's dangerous. Every Quidditch player worth his salt knows that."

"Then why do it at all?" She hesitated before reaching out and brushing a piece of greenery that was still lodged in his hair. "No, wait, that's the wrong question."

"Oh yes?" He tilted his head and grinned obnoxiously back. "What's the right one then?"

"Why do _you_ do it?"

"Ah." Scorp rolled his eyes. "Well I could waste my breath all I want, but you _still_ wouldn't get it."

Rose sniffed disdainfully, like there were no miracles of flight she could not comprehend. "Try me," she said, the picture of self-assurance.

His lips pressed into a thin line and he brushed his pants before pulling himself to his feet. "Get up."

"No." Rose's mouth went dry and she could immediately feel her heart pounding in her throat. "No, no, no."

"You were the one who asked." He walked a few feet toward the discarded broom and shouted over his shoulder: "I'm just explaining!"

"I meant with _words_ , Malfoy!"

"Yes," he cried back, laughter in his voice as he picked the broom by the handle, "but isn't a picture worth a thousand words?"

"Then take a damned picture!" Rose firmly gripped the grass around her as Scorp stalked back, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. "It's _not_ happening, you delusional idiot!"

Her heart was now hammering against her chest and she could feel her palms starting to sweat as Scorp crouched next to her.

"Come on," he said, the smile never faltering. "I promise I won't drop you."

He seemed to be under the misguided impression that she was going to say 'yes'. And when he held out his hand, Rose realised… there was a dangerous chance he was right.

Because the way her heart was hammering now? That wasn't all due to her fear of impending doom, no. It had a lot to do with the impending doom scenario, but also… his face. And the outstretched hand. And the concept of being close enough to him that him 'dropping' her would be a possibility.

Recipe for disaster if she'd ever seen one.

"I'm not scared of you dropping me, you idiot," she said, clearing her throat and eyeing his hand warily. "I can fall all by myself, no help required."

Her hands bunched the grass around her as a sort of tether to sanity, to restraint, to that ground that should always be close to your feet.

"Unless you're _really_ keen on it, I promise I won't let you fall."

"Such an overabundance of confidence," Rose said drily, her clenched fists burying themselves further into the grass. "What if I scream? Or kick? Or-"

"Or panic like a ninny like you are now? I _still_ won't let you fall," Scorp said gently, before finally giving up on his crouching and taking a seat next to her. "I draw the line at biting though - if you chomp on my arm I'm just chucking you off and letting nature run its bloody course."

He sounded so… earnest.

"You're a pushy brat," Rose muttered between gritted teeth. "I'll topple the both of us over."

"You?" Scorp snorted with disdain. "I'm a professional player and you're lighter than a bludger, for Merlin's sake. I think I'm capable of keeping you in check if your suicidal tendencies kick in."

"This is a _terrible_ idea."

"I was the one who came up with it," Scorp said, sniggering and holding out his hand again, "did you for one second expect it to be _good_?"

"Terrible, terrible idea."

"Oh, I concur," he agreed, laughing. "It's horrendous. What could I possibly have been thinking?"

The outstretched hand was sitting there on his knee, quietly screaming to be taken. The calloused hand that promised it wouldn't let her fall.

Of course sometimes hands lied, as did the people they were attached to.

"You really won't let me fall?" Rose said, hesitating before letting go of the grass she'd been clutching for dear life. " _Even_ if I bite you?"

"Depends on whether or not you do it nicely," Scorp assured her, his entire demeanour one of seriousness and dependability. "I could be into that."

"Oh, shut up," Rose scolded, pressing both her hands against her temples. "You're ruining whatever little courage I've managed to assemble."

"Rose Weasley," he said, rolling his eyes and letting himself fall on his back on the fluffy, grassy ground. He stretched his arm again and, once more, held out his hand in an overdramatic fashion, waving it right in front of her face. "I hereby swear that if I let you fall, I'll spend the rest of my life atoning for it by way of coffee, baked goods and fresh laundry."

"You already do all that. What else you got?"

Gingerly, she tried placing her hand on his and he immediately clasped it, sitting up, confidence renewed, obnoxious grin back with a vengeance.

Oh, good, now she'd done it.

"I could always stop doing it if it's of so little consequence to you."

"Blackmail, Malfoy?" Rose tried to pull her hand away and he gripped her fingers tightly right before they managed to slip from his grasp. "Isn't that beneath you?"

"I'm flattered you would think so," he replied happily, getting up to his feet. "Think of this as therapy."

"Therapy for _whom_ , exactly?"

"Let's say _me_ , shall we?" He snorted, giving her hand a 'come-hither' tug. "You're just acting as emotional support in these trying times I'm facing. You know how desperately miserable I'm feeling, how-"

"Graduating to emotional blackmail, I see."

"Oh, the bleak future that nears with every passing second! If only I had _something_ to distract myself with-"

"You're _fine_ , you Shakespearian wanker," Rose grumbled, adjusting her hold on his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. "You just want to see me suffer."

"That's part of the appeal, yes," Scorp said thoughtfully, giving her hand a tug that might've been misconstrued as supportive before letting go. "But I also want to show you what you're missing by being landlocked."

"I _get_ it," Rose protested, "it's high above and the wind flowing through your hair and all that rot."

"Just because you're terrible at flying that doesn't mean that flying is terrible."

"I'm not terrible at flying."

Even she was aware of how weak that sounded.

"Beg to differ," Scorp said, his eyebrows shooting upwards. "I was there for the debut and it's still the hardest I've laughed in the past ten years."

A PTSD slideshow of their first year flying lessons rushed through her mind.

"You're not doing yourself any favours right now," she said, glaring at him. "It's not my fault I'm not…"

"Aerodynamically inclined...?" Scorp shook his head and clamped his heels around the bristles of the broom. It hovered an inch or two above the ground and he smiled to himself. "Fortunately for you, I am."

She scowled again as the broom once again hovered and circled her once ever so slowly before landing in front of her.

"And _I'll_ be the one doing the flying. You're just... coming along for the ride."

"This is peer pressure," she said, sniffing indignantly. "It's tawdry and frankly unethical."

"Like _you've_ ever succumbed to peer pressure."

He said it like the very concept was absurd. Like there were no lattes and blueberry muffins she couldn't dodge, no shifts she couldn't refuse. Like being incapable of saying the word 'no' was something that happened to other people, never Rose Weasley.

"You'd be surprised." Her words were soft, a rueful smile on her face. "I'm very, _very_ bad at telling people to fuck off."

"You tell people to fuck off all the time." Scorp's eyebrows were knitted together in a display of clear disbelief. "Up until a few months ago all of our interactions were riddled with it. They still are."

And that's when it hit her: she'd never had problems telling Scorpius Malfoy to pretty please go fuck himself.

Not once, not ever.

"Well, yes," she said glibly, in an effort to hide the fact that her brain was working a million miles an hour to process this monumental breakthrough. "But then again you hardly qualify as 'people'."

"I'm not sure whether I should feel insulted or not." Scorp's laugh was clipped. "Who are these... 'people' then? Most importantly, do you suppose they take membership applications?"

"You've never been 'people' and you never will be," she said. "It's not a bad thing, Scorp. It just means-"

It just meant that she'd felt comfortable around Scorpius Malfoy for _years_.

Except that 'just' wasn't just a 'just', it was a massive fucking deal.

How had she never noticed it?

"It just means you'll never care for a damned word I say, the same as you don't care about a damned word Al does. Is that it?"

He sunk into silence, looking anywhere but her, clearly planning his exit. Kind of like that day when he'd left, sulking like a precious idiot.

Except this time, she wasn't about to let him.

She placed her hands on her hips and scowled fiercely at him. "Do you have any idea of how many people I can talk to like this?"

"Well, there's Albus-"

"Oh, no, no, no," she interrupted, snapping her fingers when Scorpius tried to continue. "I mean people I don't share a _gene pool_ with!"

"From what I recall, you talk to people you don't share a gene pool with just _fine_ ," he said coldly, letting the forgotten broom fall to the ground. "In fact, you tend to be _nicer_ to them than to the people you purportedly love and care about, which in my humble opinion, is fucking _insane_."

That was low and also terribly inaccurate. She wasn't 'nice', she was feeble. She was brittle and hesitant and _meek_.

Rose laughed humorlessly. "I suppose you'd rather hang out with the spineless, stuttering mess I am around the general population, then, is that it?"

"You're the least spineless person I know," Scorp said, scoffing disdainfully. "You-"

"Scorp, I can't change my breakfast order." Rose could feel herself colouring with anger. "I can't tell people to sod off when they try to dump work on me. If a complete stranger offers me drugs I'll probably fucking take them because I. Can't. Say. 'No'."

He was eyeing her with a mix of disbelief and wariness, quietly waiting to see where this was going.

 _Good_.

She tilted her chin with defiance and bit her lower lip. She could already feel tears prickling at her eyes and she gritted her teeth.

"I apologize when people bump me on the street. If I order a sandwich and they give me a salad, I'll _eat_ the damned salad."

She couldn't even look at him.

"I've had a gym membership for four years that I can't cancel it because they're _nice_ and whenever I try I always end up renewing it and buying a bunch of Zumba classes that I _know_ I'll never fucking take!"

Damnit, she was going to cry wasn't she?

"Scorp, the fact that I can tell you to 'fuck off' is nothing short of a miracle," she spat, blinking and praying to every deity out there that he wouldn't see the fat tear rolling down her cheek. "So don't go around thinking things would be much easier if I rolled over and lolled my tongue."

After a few seconds of quiet as she tried to steady herself, he finally broke the silence.

"You don't complain when you get the wrong order?! _Ever_?"

That was it?

"Somedays," she said, discreetly wiping her moist cheeks with the back of her hand. "But no, most of the time I don't."

He was giving her an easy way out. She glanced over at him and realised he didn't look particularly fazed about this, more… amused. Kind of like when he'd discovered she was a Cannons fan.

"You have a gym membership? _You_?"

He had seamlessly gone back to mocking her and she was incredibly thankful to him for it.

"Showed up a grand total of five times," she said, incapable of suppressing a small smile. "Every single one was horrible."

"And you'll take drugs from a stranger… but you won't listen to a damned thing I'll say."

"Not as it pertains to my well-being or otherwise, no," Rose said, shaking her head. "I like to exert my free will where I can."

"Oh, _Merlin_." Scorp shook his head and brushed a hand through his hair. "Never, ever?"

"I might sometimes if it's not something I'm particular about... but I'll be damned if I let you bully me into doing anything I don't strictly want to do, no."

"So I can't convince you to eat more greens, then?"

"If you tell me to finish my peas, I'll just tell you to fuck off." Rose shrugged. "I work long hours and I barely sleep. I'm not eating any bloody peas I don't want to eat."

There was a pause in his rapid-fire of mocking questions and Rose took advantage of that to turn a little sideways and properly wipe her eyes.

His next words were so soft that she almost missed them.

"So you're here... because you _want_ to be."

"Yes."

"Not because Al asked you to."

"I'd have told him to sod off otherwise."

There was something sunny in the smile he threw her... like spring had come a little early, just for her.

The nice moment was only ruined by the fact that his teeth were chattering like maracas and that he looked very, very cold indeed.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, was the man-child she fancied.

Rose rolled her eyes and pulled her wand from her pocket. " _Calidum Corpus_ ," she intoned, carefully waving her wand in a rounded motion.

There was a shocked look on Scorp's face as his teeth stopped their dance. A warm glow lit his cheeks and Rose stared smugly at him as he pulled his hands from his pockets and stared at them and then back at her.

"Emergency heating spell," she said, offering him a careless shrug as if it wasn't one of the most finicky spells she'd learned this entire year. "You may or may not be sweating like a pig in five minutes."

"You're telling me I could've been this warm and toasty for the past hour?"

"You ungrateful brat," she said, meeting his indignant look with a smile. "It's an emergency heating spell, not an 'I'm feeling a bit nippy' heating spell."

"And you're the one who gets to decide what's an emergency I suppose," he whined, pulling off his sweater and fanning himself with his hand. "How unfair."

Rose had to resist the urge to fan herself too. Not because she'd caught a glimpse of his stomach and the light blonde hair trailing down to…

No, the fact that it had become a little hard to breathe was totally unrelated to Scorp's treasure trail.

"Oh, sod off. It's relatively difficult to cast," she admitted, swallowing hard. "There was a small chance that it'd soft boil you instead."

"You can't send back a salad but you're fine with casting spells that might-" Scorp ran his fingers through his hair. "You really _are_ a mess."

The way he said it, you might've thought it was a good thing.

"I'm sorry if I care about your well-being," she huffed. "Next time I'll let you freeze to death."

"If we were flying like I'd planned," he puffed back, "I wouldn't be freezing in the first place."

"Were you planning on leeching off my body heat, that it?"

"That was very much the plan, yes," he said with a small smile. "It _is_ my enchanted sweater, I should at least second-hand profit from it."

"I suppose now that you're essentially melting, it's okay if I go back to my notes, then?"

A heavy silence sneaked up on them and it was a few moments before Scorp carelessly swatted it away.

"No, it's not. I mean…" he said, before quickly correcting himself. "If you _need_ to study I'd be a wanker not to let you just because I'm enjoying this."

"This," she repeated drily. "What exactly is 'this'?"

An undefined 'this' that made her chest feel tight.

"The two of us," he specified, like it was obvious. "Judging by how much I saw you pre-Shivers, I'm guessing we'll go back to not seeing much of each other soon."

He didn't mean it the way she wanted him to mean it. And so Rose did the only thing she could do, which was to smother the resentment she felt and shrug it away. "Can't be helped."

"Only if you're lacking in imagination," he said. "I've half a mind to catch another horrible disease and saddle you with it."

 _Idiot_.

"Please don't," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "I'm not going to vanish off the face of the earth. And you'll be around the house all the time now, so..." Her words trailed off and she grimaced.

It was Scorp's turn to roll his eyes. "I'm not made of glass you know? You don't need to wrap me up in cotton wool and-"

"Yes, but I'm supposed to be distracting you, not-"

"Distracting me? What in the world gave you that impression?" His eyebrows furrowed upwards. "I'm not a child, I'm not going to conveniently forget my problems just because you're _entertaining_ me."

Rose's eyebrows shot upwards. "No? But you looked-"

"What, you expected me to be a depressive shit?" Scorpius shook his head. "Merlin, you are a lovely idiot."

"Pot meet kettle." Rose scoffed. "So you've been running around-"

"Look, I already had my mental breakdown… well, _breakdowns_ earlier today. I'm not aiming for an encore," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and giving her a light, friendly shake. "I'm _fine_."

Rose's lips pursed into a thin line. "That's what you said when you got home."

"Yes, but back then I was obviously _lying_ ," he said brilliantly. "Now I'm obviously not."

"So you're not terribly sad?"

"Oh no, I'm heartbroken," he said, letting go of her shoulders and letting out a flippant laugh. "I've just decided I'm not going to worry about it anymore."

He said it simply with an ironic aftertaste and that in itself was heartbreaking - because somehow Rose knew it was true. Her hand twitched, every fibre of her being itching to reach out and touch him.

 _'He won't mind it if you hug him.'_

Al's words rang treacherously through her brain and Rose clenched her fists.

"Arms up, Malfoy," she said, wondering whether she should voluntarily commit herself to a mental institution. "I'm going to hug you and you're going to like it."

"I'm sure I will." He followed her command, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Is that your solution to everything?"

"Not _everything_ ," Rose replied, sniffling indignantly and hesitating before taking a decided step toward him. "But there's nothing more I can give you."

"You're here now," Scorp said gently, dropping his arms. "That's more than enough."

"Is it?"

"It is."

Rose had to shrug herself out of the vice grip that had just taken hold of her heart.

"Not to me, it isn't," she scoffed. "I want…"

"You want...?"

What _did_ she want?

To feel useful? To help?

Instead, she turned to face the pitch, struggling to sort through her brain to distil the specific feeling.

"You know when you're sad and someone goes and says something to you and it's _exactly_ what you needed to hear?"

Scorp nodded, hooking his fingers into his pockets and closing the distance between them. His bare arm was brushing against hers and just that single point of contact grounded her more than anything else in the world.

She slipped a hand into the crook of his arm and melded into him because somehow it would be weird _not_ to.

"And your heart feels lighter," she continued, ignoring the way her own heart was hammering in her chest at the feel of his skin, "because that's what you wanted someone, _anyone_ to tell you but you couldn't ask them because that'd be silly and it'd be cheating and you'd never know if they meant it or not?"

He nodded again and this time she could've sworn she'd glimpsed a shadow of a smile.

"Well, I _can't_ give you that." Rose sighed, her cheek resting against his arm. "But what I _can_ do is hug you and offer you a bunch of platitudes like 'there, there, it'll be alright' and 'those assholes don't know what they're missing' and maybe that'll make it a little better."

Scorp's arm shook with laughter. " _Those assholes don't know what they're missing_?"

"Standard breakup comfort," Rose said, shrugging, "but you'd be surprised how well it applies to other things."

"Yeah, I see what you mean," he said, shaking his head.

None of them said a word, slipping into an easy quiet that Rose felt almost loath to break.

"Can I, then?"

"What, hug me?"

Rose nodded into his arm. "Even if you don't feel better, I definitely will."

"So this is all for your benefit," he scolded quietly, his voice dropping to a lower register that made every hair on her body stand at attention. "How terribly selfish."

In spite of his words, he did wrap his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into his arms. And Rose Weasley, an experienced hugger, who claimed she had more hugging talent in her pinky finger than most people did in their entire body, became at a complete loss for words. Because one thing was hugging Scorpius Malfoy... but being hugged by Scorpius Malfoy was another matter entirely.

It felt familiar and somehow new.

Careless yet completely purposeful.

Reassuring and utterly, utterly crushing.

"But-" Rose swallowed hard, unable to say anything coherent. "You-"

What she did know was that she somehow _had_ to extricate herself from this, to say something that would remove her from whatever _this_ was, because honestly?

Scorp's hugs should be banned, declared a matter of national safety. They were a fucking health hazard.

"But I was supposed to-"

Just when she was about to complain, to say words, any words that would make this less intimate, less personal... he pressed his lips against her hair and whispered a mocking, "There, there, it'll be alright," which had the effect of shutting her up, perhaps forever.

And then, like the profound and consummate wanker that he was, he nonchalantly let her go and stretched his arms over his head. The self-satisfied smirk he was flashing her was something she hadn't seen in a while and it made her heart sink - or swim, she wasn't sure which.

"You're right," he deadpanned. "I do feel better."

He then bolted for his broom, leaving a speechless and completely stunned Rose behind.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

* * *

 _I can only imagine Scorp screaming on his broom at the end of this chapter going "WHAT THE HELL? SHIT SHIT SHIT"._ _I myself was screaming the entire time I was writing it. I had to slam the laptop shut a few times going "oh god, oh god, oh god, it's HAPPENING"._

 _I know I said there was going to be flying, but apparently I'm a liar because Rose didn't go along with it at all. I know for a fact it does happen in the future tho and that eventually Rose gets over it and becomes a decent flier._

 _Chapter 21 is already written and proofed (shocker, I know, I'm actually being productive for once) and I was planning on posting it in another two weeks. Maybe. Probably._ _Is it better if I post it now and you guys get two chapters and then spend a month with nothing or should I post it in two weeks and then the next one in a month? Hmmmmmmm._

 _(Next chapter we meet dun dun dunnnn Kate Towler!)_

 _Special thanks to **RonsGirlFriday** and **justawillowtree** who were absolute dolls and indulged me when I was writing it and sending them prints of the text just low-key panicking! If you haven't yet, you should check out their writing, they are INCREDIBLY talented! Thanks to **fearinourminds** and **Dani Prongs** for their super consistent cheerleading! __I'd also like to thank **youveforgotten** and all the lovely guests who keep leaving the nicest reviews that I can't reply to._

 _Anyway, lemme know what you thought of this. Thoughts, screaming, just gushing, etc. Is it everything you wanted? Is it good or is it goooood?_


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